


Vera

by Duchess_Aquarius



Series: Duchess Soul Series [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: 1920's setting, F/M, Mob/Mafiatale, Mystery, Original Story - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:33:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25656727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duchess_Aquarius/pseuds/Duchess_Aquarius
Summary: Seven years after the worst period in her life, Vera Font accepts an invitation from the wealthy Don Wingwing Gaster. He recently lost his son, Colt, and has called upon Vera as a medium to communicate with Colt's spirit.Don Gaster has another reason to bring Vera so far from the comforts of her loved ones and home. He knows that she crossed paths with Colt's killer seven years ago and set into motion the events that lead to his son's death.Together, they must discover the answer to what really happened on a desolate road outside Trebuchet Gulch seven years ago and in the steamy jungles of South America just two months ago that left two lives torn asunder.
Relationships: UT Mob Papyrus/OFC
Series: Duchess Soul Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1192930
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Seven years ago, the lives of Vera Font and Colt Gaster changed forever. For one, it was a horrible time filled with death, pain, and torment. For the other, it was happiness and new life. Then, two months ago, the consequences of those events concluded in another bout of bloodshed. Vera Font finds herself in the middle of a mystery; who killed Colt Gaster. She holds the key, but she is unaware of it.

Prologue

Until he saw her, he hadn’t realized he’d been looking for her. Don Wingding Gaster prided himself on always knowing what he wanted, when he wanted it, and how to get it. He was a Monster in control of his destiny at all times. When he first set foot in the Font Brothers Tavern in the poor mining town of Trebuchet Gulch, he told himself he was just getting a feel for his new venture. The mining town had been on its last legs under the rule of Don Asgore Dreemur, and Gaster felt a bit cheated when he “won” it in a high stakes poker game. Dreemur told him it was a rich town that he just loathed to lose. In truth, until that moment, Gaster was planning on tearing the pitiful town to the very dusty and sooty ground and building something worthwhile.

But there she was. Standing behind the bar, dressed in threadbare rags and utterly captivating. He recognized her immediately, though they never met in life. It was her! He knew, without touching her, that her skin would be soft and nearly glowing under the hazy lights. Her hair would be soft to the touch, despite looking like someone hacked it off with a dull knife. Her eyes were dark auburn, just this shade of red in the right light. He was spellbound by how her hands, those perfect little hands, punctuated her words as she talked to some rough miner.

“Don Gaster, this is our finest establishment in Trebuchet Gulch,” commented Mogera Talpini, the unofficial mayor of the town and his overly bubbly tour guide. She fairly dragged him all over, vainly hoping that he’d save their crumbling town and let them die the way Don Dreemur had been. “The Font Brothers Tavern is considered fairly new, having been built from the remains of the old tavern about five years ago. It’s a godsend, truly. As you can see, Don Gaster, it’s very popular with the townsfolk.”

Don Gaster could see that. It looked as if everyone from town was now crowded in the shoddy building, drinking their problems into bigger problems. He knew from experience that alcohol was never the answer. Your problems learned to float, the bastards. Once he was spotted, all conversation ceased. Don Gaster found himself and his two bodyguards under the scrutiny of the miners. Many of the glares were angry as they all knew he held their fates in the metacarpals of his hands. The woman saw him and turned her gaze toward him, leaning one hip against the bar counter and crossing her arms. Her look was defiant, daring him to act out against those around her. Had she been anyone else, had he not been searching for her, he would have taken her up on that challenge and left her corpse behind as a warning. As it was, he felt a sense of pride in her bravery. Was she aware of his search?

She was perfect! Don Gaster could read the evidence in her stance to know she once had an easy life, had known something beyond the sheer poverty before him. It was the graceful way she held herself under his stare, she was not some cowed tavern wench or overly haughty prostitute that others may mistake her for. She was the only human in Trebuchet Gulch, a Monster mining town, and he could see the evidence of that. Someone - and it made the magic in his bones boil to notice it - had carved a crude and deep M in her left cheek, leaving her forever disfigured and marked. It caused the corner of her lips to twist up, creating a smirk. Others, perhaps Don Dreemur, had thought her some snooty woman for that, but Don Gaster knew the truth. That scar was all the evidence he needed. There was no doubt in his mind she was the one.

A tall skeleton in an old pair of pants and a dingy gray shirt gently pushed past the woman, dipping his skull to whisper in her ear. She frowned, her lips twisting and pulling down on the scarred side of her face. With one last defiant look to Gaster, she slipped out the back door as the skeleton walked over to greet the Don.

“Don Gaster, welcome to the Font Brothers Tavern. I’m Montserrat Font, owner of this fine establishment. Please, let me know if there is anything you desire. I make the best hibiscus beer around. If you’re hungry, we have turnip stew. I’m afraid we have run out of steak, though.” The skeleton was of the Fell variety, all sharp angles to his bones, pointed fangs, and a deep red glow in his eye sockets. He reminded Gaster of his two middle sons, Browning and Beretta. 

“I dare say, fine establishment is…an understatement,” muttered Don Gaster as he took in the dilapidated appearance of the building. The wood and structure cannibalized from a previous tavern and held together with spit and a prayer, there were gaps in the walls, mismatched furniture, and they had to use candles and lanterns due to not being able to afford any electricity out this way. Everything, not just the tavern but the whole town, was covered in a fine layer of soot and dirt from the mines.

“Of course it is,” twittered Mogera, either ignoring or not understanding the implication of his words. “As you can see, Don Gaster, we are still a thriving mining town. Our coal reserves are not dried up. We may have had a bit of a set back several years ago, and were not given the proper tools to recover, but are still thriving. Our most prosperous vein was hidden behind a cave-in seven years ago. We have only just recently been able to dig it out and reset that shaft. I assure you, Don Gaster, we will only add to your wealth and prestige.”

Next to him, his two bodyguards stirred. Alke, a Tale type Undyne, snorted. “It took you seven years to dig out some cave-in? How slow-moving are you?”

“We lost a good Monster in that cave-in,” said Montserrat softly. “We had to sift through each bucket of soil to make sure we collected all his belongings to give him a proper burial. That takes time and we couldn’t dedicate the man-hours just to that. Don Dreemur - a fine Monster, I assure you - did require us to pay protection fees and that made digging out the mine take longer. We are now in a position for you to reap the rewards, Don Gaster.”

Gaster nodded. “I understand your concern. I recently lost my youngest son, Colt, in the wilds of the South American jungles. I don’t know what I would have done if his dust hadn’t been brought home to me.” His eye lights flickered back to the door the woman exited. She was his answer to who killed his son.

“I suppose we were very lucky in the cave-in,” said Mogera. “As tragic as it was, we only lost one soul. It would have been much worse without Garamond’s efforts to save everyone.”

A few men near-by all muttered something about Garamond being a true hero. One even took off his hat. Montserrat glared at Mogera. Interested, Don Gaster asked, “Who was Garamond?”

“My brother,” said Montserrat. “He was able to get the other miners out before the cave-in, but he was trapped down there. He perished before anyone could save him.” Montserrat took a step back. “How about some hibiscus beer, sir? We do not get news here very often, and I am truly saddened to hear about your son’s passing. I’ve heard good things about Colt Gaster, a truly honorable Monster. A drink, sir, to your son’s memory.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Don Gaster as Alke and his other bodyguard, Neiro, a Fell Undyne, cleaned off a near-by table for him to sit. Once he was settled, he turned his attention back to Montserrat, who waited to see if there would be any other orders. To the Fell skeleton’s horror, there was one more thing. “If you can be bothered, Mr. Font, would you tell me about the young Human woman who was behind the bar when I came in? The one you sent away.”

Montserrat stiffened. The air in the tavern changed and Don Gaster knew that the miners were now glaring at him, hidden beneath over-sized hats and behind mugs of cheap beer. It only inflamed his desire to find her again.

“How about that drink, Don Gaster. I’m sure you’re parched from your journey,” said Montserrat through clenched teeth. He turned to make his escape but was stopped by a glowing blue spear that materialized in his path. Three more spears appeared as Don Gaster nonchalantly lit a cigarette. Alke and Neiro waited patiently, their yellow eyes on Montserrat, for the signal that would either spare him or end his pathetic life. The tension in the bar mounted, but no one was brave enough to stand up to save Montserrat.

Don Gaster took a deep puff of the cigarette, letting the smoke leak through the orbits of his eyes, his nose, and corners of his jaw. “You were doing so well there, Mr. Montserrat Font. I’m going to give you a chance to fix your error. I’ll ask you a question, and I suggest you answer me truthfully and carefully. Do you think it wise to hide something - anything - from me? Or, better yet, do you think it’s wise to hide _someone,_ from me?”

Montserrat shook in fear as he faced Gaster. No one ever crossed the Don and lived. No one.

“No sir,” he said softly. “I know it’s not wise to hide anything from you.”

“So, the woman?”

“Please, Don Gaster, she’s my sister-in-law, my family. We know of your…appetite for Human women. Not that a fine man such as yourself can’t find comfort in the arms of whoever he chooses, sir! She’s just…she’s not some floozy to be used and tossed. She’s one of us, Don Gaster, and though she may not look it, she’s as fine as any well-bred woman, Human or Monster. Please, Don Gaster, I am begging you to not hurt her. Show her mercy.”

Gaster studied him. No one told him who to pursue or who to let live. He was the Don here, not this filthy low-life. However, his gaze was drawn to just over Montserrat’s shoulder. In the hazy light, he could see a swirl of dust, soot, and dirt dance in the air. For a moment, he saw…

With a smile, he snubbed the cigarette out on the table. Instantly, the spears vanished. “You are much like my departed Colt, Mr. Font. Go, get me that drink and I will consider this matter closed for now.”

Don Gaster was a man of his word. For the rest of the day, he didn’t mention the woman again. He kept his eye out though. He sent Neiro into town that night to gather information. With Montserrat Font calling the woman family, he knew that was the most logical place to start. He learned she lived in a crumbling shack next door to Montserrat Font, tried to keep her decaying garden alive and considered it a success if she could harvest a handful of tomatoes and beans each season. She visited the cemetery on the edge of town almost every night after work and that every Wednesday, she brought home cooked meals to Pollyanna Lee, the ailing widow who owned the General Store.

The next day, after a pathetic breakfast of too-thin flapjacks, burnt bacon, and bitter coffee, Don Gaster was visited by a lowlife drunk named Corvus Royston, a crow Monster so deep in his cups he had no idea which way was up. Through Corvos, Gaster learned the woman’s name was Vera Font, and she was indeed the widow of the hero Garamond Font. Her parents were circus performers who passed through Trebuchet Gulch when she was sixteen. She so fell in love with the town that she decided to stay, finding work with Pollyanna and Huckle Lee at the General Store. There, she met and fell instantly in love with Garamond.

“It was doomed from the start iffen you ask me,” said Corvus as he took another swig from his dirty bottle. “Nothing good can come from a Human and Monster. No ‘ffense yer Donship, but at least you have th’ smarts to not marry any of them floozies you bed. Not Garamond. He wanted onl’ Vera from the moment he saw her. And she him. They married after she turned eighteen and later had a son. Named the little freak Roman.”

“A hybrid child,” muttered Don Gaster. “How old is her son? I don’t think I’ve heard anything about him.”

“Boy is dead. He would have been seven this year, but he died in all th’ bad luck. He weren’t a year old when he vanished.”

Don Gaster’s soul thrummed. The puzzle pieces fit perfectly!

“If you ask me, it was all very fishy.” Corvus looked at Alke and Neiro and laughed. “Fishy! Ha! Get it? Anyway, Vera’s a Human. Prob’ly sold the freak to another circus and killed Huckle to cover her tracks. Can’t trust Humans. Prob’ly carved that M on herself, too. Everyone is just so blind to how great Garmond was to think his widow could be another lying, thieving, murdering Human.” He spat on the ground.

Alke had a spear to Corvus’ throat in no time. “Disrespect the Don’s room again, and I’ll dust you,” she snarled.

“Exactly what happened? Where is the boy?”

Shaken, Corvus said, “It was like a month before the cave-in. Huckle got some message about supplies or a shipment that was left behind on the docks in St. Gothic City. Vera and Roman went with him. Story goes, she wanted to pick out somethin’ special for Garamond. Humans and their need to show off material possessions. Anyway, they were a few miles outside the town when, ‘cording to Vera, they were stopped by a man and a woman on the side of the road. Said their car wouldn’t start and asked them for help. Huckle, being the kind idiot he was, got out to look at the car. Foolish man didn’t know an engine from his ass. That was when the man pulled a gun on them. Shot Huckle and dusted him instantly. Vera said she tried to run, to get back to Huckle’s car with the intent to drive back, but the man shot her. Left Vera on the side of the road like a dead raccoon and took off with Roman. Garamond and Montserrat found her hours later when Pollyanna mentioned they should have been home by then.”

“And how long ago was that?” Don Gaster lit another cigarette, eyes on his ‘guest’.

Seven years. A month later was the cave-in. Everyone will say Garamond was a hero, but I was there. He didn’t get trapped by the cave-in. He’s a skeleton! You should know that yer kind can do that whatchamecallit thing. Teleport or whatever. He could have saved himself but he let it all come down around him. Ain’t no wonder. He and Vera had been fighting that whole month. See, I think Garamond was wise. He knew his Human wife was just as lowlife as the rest. He must have known she orchestrated the whole thing to get rid of that little freak and it broke his heart. Death was a blessing.” Corvus frowned. “Tried sending that uppity bitch back to her own people. Momma and Poppa were circus folk, but her grandparents were loaded with a country home just outside Waterfall City. She should have been happy to not slum it around with us Monsters anymore. Left her scheming ass on their front porch and washed our hands of her. Then, almost three months later, she comes crawling back here with that gash in her cheek. Everyone welcomes her back like some prodigal daughter. Makes me sick.”

Don Gaster took another puff from his cigarette and gave a nod. Alke dusted the repulsive creature and he sent Neiro out to let the town know he wanted to speak to Vera Font. It all added up to the timeline of events that led to Colt’s murder. He was sure his son - his sweet, charitable son - never set foot in this horrid little town. He never heard the name Vera Font or knew about her family, but it all fit! Seven years ago, Colt left home to do some self-righteous work in the jungles of South America. Some shit about feeding the poor, teaching the underprivileged, or building homes for victims of this or that disaster. Colt had always been like that, giving his birthday money to the homeless or volunteering in soup kitchens. If it weren’t for the fact he knew it would give Don Gaster a stroke, he would have gone into the clergy. Well, that and the fact he fell in love with a Human named Ruby Baskerville. He hadn’t been in South America for six months before Ruby showed up with a baby, claiming the child to be his.

“We have named him Chara,” Colt wrote. “I did not know Ruby was pregnant when I left. I have done the right thing, Father, and I married her. The ceremony was small and fast, officiated by Father Dexter Mumford, who has since left to return to his parish in California. I plan to return home this Gyftmas season so you may see your first grandson.”

Something had changed in Colt over the years. In his last letter to Gaster, Colt stated his doubts about Chara being his son. He didn’t tell his father what those doubts were or what caused them, just that he witnessed something that made him wonder about Chara’s true parentage. He also wrote about how he feared for his life and planned to return home. His doubts about Chara were placing him in danger.

“I love my son too much to just leave him here, despite my doubts,” Colt wrote. “I will not allow anyone to harm him. We will pack up and return home soon, Father, and then I can sort all of this out. I fear a grave injustice has been made and I am not the only victim in this. And, as I fear I am the cause of this injustice, I wish to make it right.”

A month later, he received a letter from Ruby, informing him of Colt’s death. “It was some primitive illness they have here in the jungles,” she wrote. “I will be leaving here soon after this letter is posted and should arrive at your home shortly. I will you Colt’s dust so that he may be buried in the home he so loved.”

Naturally, when she arrived, Gaster told her to stay for as long as she’d like. He did not want to lose contact with Chara. Don Gaster had doubts about the boy’s parentage, too, but he still loved the child as his own grandson. It was clear to anyone who saw him that Chara was the product of a Human and Monster, a skeleton Monster to be precise. Gaster always assumed Ruby just slept with someone and passed that child off as Colt’s, wanting the easy and rich life that would afford her.

Gaster knew he could just leave Trebuchet Gulch without talking to Vera. He could live his life and pretend there was no more nagging suspicions about Chara’s true parentage or how it felt like being hit by lightning when he first laid eyes on Vera Font. If she showed up before he left, he knew it was still an option to just bed the wench and leave her clueless to the fact she held the key to Colt’s murder. He could ignore it all and be on his merry way. But then the burning question in his skull would never be answered. He needed her. He knew Colt needed her.

Vera Font made him wait until the last day of his trip. Just as Don Gaster thought he’d have to seek her out and beg audience if need be, a knock came at the door of his hotel room. When Alke opened it, there stood Vera and Montserrat. She wore a dress that was at least two decades out of style and positively faded, clearly her Sunday best from a time when she could afford it. Montserrat wore a thin suit with patches carefully dyed to match the original material, but even that failed and Gaster could tell where each tear and rip had been. If he ever needed a visual of how poor Trebuchet Gulch really was, it was standing in his doorway.

“I understand you wished to speak with me, Don Gaster,” said Vera. Her voice was harsh and painful, making him wonder if she obtained some injury to her throat in the past. Perhaps when she received that hideous M on her cheek.

“Yes, Ms. Font. Please, have a seat.” Don Gaster led them to what supposedly passed as a sitting room in this hovel. It was just a tiny table, barely big enough for one person to have tea, and four wobbly mismatched chairs. Under the light of the gas lamp, he could tell her eyes were a lovely, and familiar, shade of maroon. He unconsciously reached out, unsure if he wanted to get a closer look at her eyes, that scar, or her face in general. With practiced ease, she sidestepped his advance and sat herself in one of the rickety chairs like a queen. Had she been anyone else, he’d be itching to bring her haughty nature down a peg or two. But not Vera Font. She amused him.

“It’s Mrs. Font, actually,” she said. “I’m a married woman.”

“A widow, Ms. Font. Do not insult me. I’ve done my research on you.” He took the seat across from her.

“My apologies, Don Gaster. How may I be of service?” There was a tremble to her words, a slight betrayal to the bravery she showed. She was scared, and he knew his reputation was the reason why.

“Ms. Font, I’m not sure if you’ve been made aware that my youngest son, Colt, passed away a few months ago,” Don Gaster started. He stopped as a minute look of relief washed over Vera’s face.

Vera gave a low, husky chuckle. “Oh, my word, Don Gaster, you had me worried. I am so sorry for your loss. Montserrat had mentioned it to me, and I know I must sound callous when I say I’m glad this is all you’ve called on me for. When we heard you were asking around about me, I thought…Well, it’s no matter. I’d be pleased to help you, Don Gaster.”

Flabbergasted, Don Gaster asked, “Help me?” He looked to his bodyguards, both of whom shrugged. They had no idea either.

“Do a reading to connect with your son. That is why you wanted to see me? I may not be famous, but I am the only medium in the area.”

It was rare, indeed, that anyone surprised Gaster. For a brief moment, he was silent as this information sank in. No one had mentioned she was a medium. This was…interesting. It’s not like he hadn’t reached out to mediums and psychics after he found out Colt had died. He went through more fakes than he cared to count. Only one had any information that had to have come from his son.

_Trebuchet Gulch._ The medium had written it several times over in Colt’s unique handwriting. Colt wanted him to find Vera Font.

When he played that game against Don Dreemur, he felt Colt by him, guiding him to win that hand. He had seen the spirit of his son, silently watching from the shadows for a while now. If it was truly Vera he needed, he was sure Colt had guided him to her.

Don Gaster felt a smile tug at his teeth. “That is correct, Ms. Font. I am in need of a reading. When can you do it?”

“Now, if you wish.” She smoothed her hands on her skirt. “I mean, if you prefer to wait until dark and do this under candlelight, I can oblige. Though I have learned the spirits don’t really care about the time of day, what color candles are used, or any of that stuff. It’s the connection they crave and the energy we can raise.”

Don Gaster motioned for everyone to sit. Neiro opted to stand as there were no more chairs. This was different from the other seances he had partaken in. Vera didn’t dim the lights or do any chants. She glanced once over Don Gaster’s shoulder and smiled sadly.

“First, let me offer my condolences on the loss of your son, Don Gaster,” she said as she held out her calloused hands. “It’s never easy to lose a loved one, especially your child. I want you to concentrate on him, let him know you are open to his words.”

Don Gaster reached out to hold her hands, but Montserrat stopped him. “In a circle, sir. We have to form a circle.”

Once everyone held hands, Vera began.


	2. Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera Font arrives at the estate of Don Gaster. She has her first meeting with the Don and is introduced to some of his family, including the very charming Remington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a version of Frisk and Chara in this story. I know in the game, both characters are gender neutral so that the player can project any gender they desire into the characters. Boy, girl, both, neither, that's up to the player. In this story, I did need them to be certain genders (or actually have a gender). I know this is sometimes a touchy subject with some people who believe Frisk and/or Chara should always be gender-neutral, but I am taking the road where the no gender for the character means I can use a gender if needed. It fits with the story I am writing. In other stories I write, these characters are often gender-neutral. So, I hope this doesn't upset anyone. That was not my intention.

Chapter One

The jungle was so hot and sticky. Vera’s clothes stuck to her body as she walked down a barely-there path. Someone had tried to create a way, but already the jungle was reclaiming it. Further up ahead, she saw a small village with tiny huts. Jaguar Monsters roamed through the village, the sun glistening off their sleek fur. Vera felt pulled toward one hut off to the side. This one belonged to a missionary; lace curtains were over the windows and there was a small table and chair outside the door, a tea set ready for use on the table. 

Vera entered the hut and felt like she was now entering a whole new world. The sounds of animals and talking from the outside ceased. The only noise was the soft weeping of the figure on the bed. Cautiously, she went to the bed to see a tall skeleton Monster, curled up on his side. He was naked, the sheets twisted around his hips. One hand clawed at the mattress, ripping it open to reveal the straw inside while his other hand clutched at his chest. His soul, a fading white heart, fluttered helplessly in his ribcage. When Vera knelt by the bed, she could tell he was a Gaster-type skeleton, the telltale cracks over his right eye socket and down the left side of his jaw were very evident, as were the holes in his hands. A bright green scarf was wrapped around his neck.

The skeleton looked up, and their eyes locked. Tears and dust fell from his sockets and Vera knew he was dying.

“I am sorry,” the skeleton said. His voice was low and strangled. “I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

He struggled to say more, but dust was now falling from his mouth. Vera had only seen one Monster dust in all her life, and that was Huckle. He went rather fast because his death was quick. This poor Monster was trying to hang on for all he was worth, and it was causing his death to be so slow and painful.

He grabbed her, and in strength she didn’t know he possessed, he pulled her to him. “Echoes,” he whispered. “You must…Echoes!”

With that, he crumpled on the bed and dusted. Vera scrambled back, her eyes on the bed and the limp, green scarf. She heard a noise and turned. This time, she screamed as the specter of Garamond, still dressed in his sooty miner clothes, reached for her, his face twisted in rage.

Vera jerked awake, her heart pounding. She wasn’t in bed and was currently sitting up. Something held her in place and she started to panic.

“Hey! Girlie! Stop that!” A harsh voice commanded and someone pushed her back. The world swam between the jungle and the interior of a car. Finally, everything fell into place and Vera remembered she was on her way to Don Gaster’s mansion to do a special reading. The expensive Rolls Royce was now parked off the side of the road while Alke, the Tale Undyne bodyguard, was shaking her.

“What?” asked Vera groggily.

“You were screaming in your sleep. You okay,” Alke asked.

Vera nodded. She could no longer remember her dream, except for the end. Garamond showed up in many of her dreams, always angry. He’d been angry from the day he died, and she knew why. She lost their baby and hadn’t been able to find Roman. With the money Don Gaster said he’d pay for her to do this reading, she could hire some really good detectives to find Roman. She knew it wasn’t too late. Her son was alive and she’d find him!

After all, if Roman were dead, Garamond would have no reason to haunt her. He’d have been reunited with Roman and both could find happiness in the afterlife.

“I’m fine. Just a nightmare.”

“What about?”

Vera looked at Alke. The blue fish Monster was watching her with curiosity. 

“My husband,” Vera said. “He died several years ago in a cave-in. He has not found peace.”

Alke nodded. “I heard them talking about that back in that miner town. He was a hero, they said.”

“Yes. Yes, he was. There has never been a finer man than Garamond. I’ve done all I can to help him find peace, but he just won’t rest.”

Alke turned away and motioned for the driver to continue. The rest of the drive was quiet and neither Alke nor Vera felt like talking. Eventually, they passed through the gates. The vast Gaster mansion sat nestled between the hustle and bustle of Ebbot City and the quieter towns that dotted along Highway 30. Situated back along rolling green hills, immaculate gardens, and tree-lined paths, it was a sight to behold. Vera had never seen anything so grand. Suddenly, she felt very plain and drab as they drove up to the carriage garage at the side of the house. There was no way she’d fit in with all that glamour with her old and worn-out clothing.

“Don Gaster said he wanted to see you as soon as you arrived,” said Alke. She had Vera’s single suitcase taken out of the car and brought up. Holding Vera’s arm, she marched the poor woman around the carriage garage to the very front of the house and up the stairs. Vera tried to see more of the house as she was briskly taken through. To her left was the dining room and a small room just for stairs to the right. She glanced up as they crossed the foyer and she could see someone watching from the second floor. It was too dark to see anything more than the fact that the person was a tall, thin skeleton Monster. Something green glittered in the shadows.

Alke brought Vera to the study across the Master suite. The walls were lined with shelves and filled in with books. Near the far end of the room was a grand dark wood desk. Don Gaster sat behind it, his head in his hands as he reviewed some papers. A fire crackled merrily in the fireplace, the flames blue and only there for aesthetic and not for heat. On his desk were a few photo frames and an ashtray, a still smoking cigarette in it. Behind his desk were pots of large blue, green, and pink flowers.

Alke cleared her throat. “Don Gaster, Ms. Vera Font has arrived.”

He finally looked up. For a moment, Vera was struck by a memory that she was sure wasn’t hers. Don Gaster was laying in a bed, sick and dying, in the middle of a jungle. No, that wasn’t right. She shook her head and the image faded. She never went to the jungle, so why would she have a memory of that?

“How was your trip, Ms. Font?”

“Very well, Don Gaster. Your car handles very smoothly. I don’t think I felt the road at all.”

“Good.” He gestures to a chair across his desk. “Have a seat, Ms. Font. I want to talk to you about your role in my house. Alke, you are dismissed for now. I am expecting those packages today, so when they arrive, have them sent up immediately. And, if you happen to see the boys, I do want to talk to them a little later.” Alke nodded and closed the door.

Vera sat, feeling once more like the drab country mouse to his flashy city mouse. It’s just business, she told herself. She’ll only stay a night or two for the seance and then she’s gone. But, with the Don’s reputation with women, she started to fear what was left of her virtue. She was no virgin, having been happily married and born a child, but did that make her a greater target? 

“Ms. Font, how much of your reading do you remember?” He leaned forward on the desk, watching her intently. From within his eye sockets came a red glow, and Vera wondered if he weren’t the Fell variety of Gaster. His teeth were certainly sharp enough. The way he watched her, the way his mouth curved up with all those sharp teeth and that crack that split the left upper jaw, he looked positively demonic. Vera hoped she could survive this with her soul intact.

“Not much,” she admitted. That reading had been a disaster. She remembered taking Montserrat’s and Alke’s hands and locking gazes with the shadow over Don Gaster’s shoulder. Then, she blinked and felt everything leave her. The spirit she saw was now gone. She apologized for it not working and Don Gaster insisted she come to his house to ‘try again’. Montserrat wouldn’t even tell her anything. He never saw her fail so badly.

Don Gaster picked up his cigarette and puffed on it. The smoke leaked out of his eye sockets, nose holes, and corners of his mouth. “There is something about you, Ms. Font. Anyone else would have found themselves dead. After Colt died, I tried everything. I think I had nearly ten mediums come to my house to contact him. Many of them were fakes, Ms. Font. I do so despise fakes and liars.” He watched her, letting the smoke curl above his head. “I know you are not a fake. You may not remember your reading, but I do.”

Shaken, Vera looked down at her hands. She should have been wearing gloves in such a nice house. Her rough, calloused hands looked horrible in this elegant setting. And given her failure before, she wondered why he didn’t call her a fake. There was just something too dangerous about Don Gaster, and she stupidly put herself into his power. Suddenly, the study door slammed open and two children, roughly seven-years-old came running in. They had to be twins as they looked so much alike. Both had the same soft brown hair that flopped into their round little faces. The girl’s hair was pulled back in a haphazard ponytail while the boy’s hair was cut short. They wore matching sailor outfits, though the boy’s was a pants outfit and the girl wore a dress, and both looked like they lost a fight in the mud. The little boy reached the desk first and held out his cupped hands.

“Grandpa! Look what we caught! Look!” He opened his hand to show Don Gaster a frog.

“That certainly is something, Chara. However, the door was closed for a reason.”

For a moment, the little boy just stared at his grandpa before motioning to the little girl. “Come on.” He took her hand, holding the frog close to his heart with the other hand. The two left the office and closed the door. A second later, there came a knock.

“Who is it,” asked Don Gaster. Vera could tell he was trying to not laugh. This was a new side of the fearsome Don. 

“It’s us, Grandpa. We wanna show you something,” came the little boy’s voice.

“Very well, Chara, you both may enter.” The door opened again and the twins came back in. The boy went back up to his grandpa and showed him the frog again.

“I see,” said Don Gaster. “Well, that poor creature doesn’t belong in the house, Chara. You two should put it back in the gardens.”

He grinned and Vera felt her heart flip. For an instant, he looked like Garamond! “I have a better place for him,” said Chara.

“Chara Adams Gaster, if we find that poor frog in your mother’s bed, I’m going to blister your ass,” said Don Gaster. The threat sounded awful, but there was a hint of humor in his voice. 

Chara rolled his eyes and said, in all the wisdom of a seven-year-old boy, “You won’t find it there since she never sleeps there.”

“Chara!” This time, it was not Don Gaster who spoke. Vera turned to see three skeletons standing in the doorway. The first she saw was a tall skeleton wearing a sharp black pinstripe suit with a dark red vest. There were deep cracks over his right eye socket, and many smaller, shallower cracks over his face. He had a red glow to his eye sockets and towered in the room. She could see the holsters strapped to his waist and chest with guns still in them, and she knew, instinctively, that even if he did not have the guns, he was dangerous.

Coming in after him was a shorter skeleton in a dark gray suit and dark blue vest. He appeared to be a bit on the chubbier side, but Vera knew that it was an illusion. He reminded her a bit of Garamond, who was short and stocky, but pure magical muscle. She was maybe the same height as this skeleton. He was smooth boned with no visible cracks or markings and had a very easy smile. She wasn’t fooled, though. He worked for Don Gaster, and that meant he was no angel.

The last skeleton to enter the room took her breath away when she saw him. She wasn’t sure why. He was nothing like Garamond and looked to be the most harmless of the three. Almost as tall as the first, he wore dark gray slacks and a red shirt. He was unmarred and had an air of friendliness about him. There was an orange glow to his eye sockets and he had no weapons that she could see. Maybe, it was because his teeth were not pointed that he seemed safer. 

Chara ducked his head, now holding the frog to his chest. “Sorry, Uncle Remington.”

The little girl ran up to the friendly skeleton and held up her arms. He picked her up with a huge smile. “Hello, Frisk! What have you two been up to today?” The little girl signed and the skeleton nodded a few times. “Yes, I see. Sounds like you both had a lot of fun. But, you are dirty and should clean up before dinner.”

“Yes, they should,” remarked the tall, scary skeleton. His voice was strange, sounding almost as if he were talking from his nose ridge instead of his throat. The other skeleton’s voice was also rather loud, but pleasant in tone. “Cleanliness is very important.”

Don Gaster walked out from behind his desk and placed his hands on Vera’s shoulders. “My boys, I’d like you to meet Ms. Vera Font. She’s going to be staying here for a few days as my guest. Vera, if I may introduce my sons; Remington, Winchester, and Beretta.” Remington, the one with the little girl in his arms, smiled and waved while the little girl hid her face against his shoulder. Winchester was the small skeleton and Beretta the scary one.

******************************

Remington Gaster had just gotten home when he was nearly pounced upon by Alke at the door. While he got along with the fishy bodyguard, he was not thrilled at being bombarded as soon as he walked through the door. Though, he did have a slight fear that the sudden intrusion was due to his adopted daughter Frisk. Or his nephew, Chara. Those two, thick as thieves lately, had gotten into so much trouble.

“Your father wants to talk to you boys as soon as you’re free,” said Alke. 

“Is anything wrong?”

“Not really. He has a guest and maybe he wants to talk to you all about her.”

“Her?”

Alke nodded and grinned. “The medium from that poor mining town. Your dad took a liking to her.”

Remington sighed. His father and his conquests. He was already having to deal with his nephew’s rebellious nature and his sister-in-law’s strange ways. He did not want to deal with another one of his father’s _romances_. Maybe he’d have to have a talk with the Don about this. He hated the thought of talking to his father like that, but he now had a little girl to worry about. He didn’t want Frisk walking in on his father and his father’s new squeeze.

He shuddered when he remembered poor Frisk walking in on Ruby and that medium she brought with her. If he were honest with himself, he was starting to suspect that Ramsey, the Brilliant Mystic, was a fake.

As Remington rounded the corner to head to the office, he saw his twin brother, Winchester, and younger brother, Beretta, at the door. 

“Hey, bro,” said Winchester. “We were about to knock. Glad you could join us.”

“We should make this quick,” said Remington. “I have a lot on my plate today. Alke just warned me that Father brought home another woman.”

Beretta growled. “Of course he did. That man and his addictions.”

Remington nodded and put his hand on the doorknob. He and his brothers were all so different. Though he and Winchester were twins, they looked nothing alike. Winchester was smaller and what was known as a Sans skeleton. Skeletons, Remington knew, came in only a few categories. Their overall appearance was either Tale or Fell, with only maybe one percent in all the world being a Gaster of either kind. Tales were often softer and rounder in appearance, their eye sockets a bit bigger and their teeth blunter. The Sans skeletons were shorter and looked chubby, almost all the time. Remington was a Papyrus skeleton, meaning he was taller. His father, a Gaster Fell skeleton, had children of all three sets. 

Beretta and Browning, the middle twins, were both of the Fell variety. Beretta, a Papyrus, was tall and lanky with fangs and dark red eye lights. He looked like Remington’s evil twin, but deep down, Beretta was a softy. As the head of the security for Don Gaster, Beretta was not one to be trifled with. Browning, a Fell Sans, also worked in the security field, and was the one who mostly went out to collect the protection fees. A rather girthy skeleton, he intimidated people with his size.

The youngest set of twins were Colt and Derringer. It was harder to tell where they fell in the categorization of skeletons. Both were Gaster types, and Remington believed they were Tale, but as to if they were a Sans or Papyrus type, that was impossible. Both were tall and lanky and looked very much like Father, but with the more blunt teeth. 

Remington, and indeed all his siblings, never knew their mothers. They had all been one night stands for the purpose of having kids and left once each set of twins was born. At least, that was what Remington believed. Otherwise, why would their mothers all leave so soon? That pain was one reason why he adopted Frisk. He found her alone and scared in a park. Someone had abandoned her there, and he saw that she was starving and hurt. He took her in and cared for her. As soon as he legally could, he adopted her. He taught her sign language and was helping her with her crippling shyness. So far, she only opened up around her new family. Anyone not a skeleton sent her hiding. 

Well, except Chara. Her cousin was her age and the two immediately got along. Chara, very adventurous, declared that Frisk was his best friend in all the world and took her out on little adventures. It was amazing to watch Frisk open up and smile, though Remington wasn’t sure about how much he actually liked that his daughter was now getting in the habit of annoying her Aunt Ruby or Ramsey. Just last night, they had put snakes in Ramsey’s bed. If he were honest with himself, watching that poor excuse of a man cower on a chair when the snakes were discovered, and they were just harmless little garter snakes, was too funny.

Just as Remington opened the door, he heard his father say, “Chara Adams Gaster, if we find that poor frog in your mother’s bed, I’m going to blister your ass.” Oh, stars, what had his nephew gotten into now?

“You won’t find it there since she never sleeps there,” came from Chara.

“Chara!” Remington couldn’t stop himself. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into his nephew. He’d have to talk to him about respecting his parents. Maybe, Colt’s death was really affecting the boy. He just seemed so happy lately that they hadn’t noticed.

Chara ducked his head, holding something to his chest. “Sorry, Uncle Remington.”

Frisk ran up to Remington and begged to be held. He couldn’t say no and picked her up. He noted that her new dress was now stained with dirt streaks and the hem was wet from playing near the pond. “Hello, Frisk! What have you two been up to today?”

Frisk smiled and signed her day. She told him they played hide and seek, that Chara read to her, and then they played by the pond and caught a frog. “I see,” said Remington. “Sounds like you both had a lot of fun. But, you are dirty and should clean up for dinner.”

“Yes, they should,” remarked Beretta. “Cleanliness is very important.”

With that, their father stood and walked around his desk to a woman that Remington hadn’t even noticed before. She was…beautiful! This was the woman his father was now seeing? Life was not fair. There was something so simple about her that it made her outshine all the ladies Don Gaster normally brought over. She was thin and a bit malnourished with choppy auburn hair and dark eyes. She wore no makeup and clothes that had seen better days. Someone had carved the dreaded M on her face, causing the left side of her lips to curl up slightly.

Yet, still, she was gorgeous. 

“My boys, I’d like you to meet Ms. Vera Font. She’s going to be staying here for a few days as my guest. Vera, if I may introduce you to my sons: Remington, Winchester, and Beretta.”

Remington waved as Frisk hid from the stranger she hadn’t realized was there. Chara turned to look at her and smiled. “I know her! She’s Firebird! Dad said she was coming to visit.”

The air in the office suddenly cooled. Vera looked surprised while Winchester and Beretta groaned. Don Gaster knelt by his grandson. “Chara, we’ve discussed this. Your father isn’t here anymore. He isn’t talking to you.”

“Yes, he is! Dad comes in to tuck me in every night! He told me that Firebird was coming here.” Chara turned to Vera. “You are Firebird, right?”

“I…” Vera paused and looked at Don Gaster. “My husband used to call me that a lot. I haven’t been called that in a long time.”

“We will discuss this later,” said Don Gaster. “Remington, since you were heading upstairs anyway, can you show Ms. Font around and take her to her room? It’s the Green Room. She has access to any place in the house but not Derringer’s or Colt’s rooms.”

Winchester snorted. “She shouldn’t have access to just anyplace. My room is off-limits, too.”

“As is mine,” said Beretta.

“I did not plan to intrude on your rooms,” said Vera. Remington was struck by the coarse hoarseness of her voice. He’d only heard that sound from one other, and that had been some misguided thug he had choked nearly to death for daring to attack him. Someone had tried to kill this woman, and she survived.

“I would be glad to take Ms. Font around the house, Father,” said Remington. “I’ll be back down once I’ve made sure these two scamps have taken their baths.”

Chara rolled his eyes. “Do we have to, Uncle Remington?”

“Yes. Now, come along.” Remington ushered his two charges out of the room and motioned for Vera to follow him. She truly wasn’t like his father’s normal affairs. Just being near her made his soul sing. Maybe, if his father got tired of her but not angry, he might be the one to comfort her when the affair ended.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don Wingding Gaster - Fell-type Gaster  
> Alke - Tale-type Undyne  
> Neiro - Fell-type Undyne  
> Winchester - Tale-type Sans  
> Remington - Tale-type Papyrus  
> Browning - Fell-type Sans  
> Beretta - Fell-type Papyrus  
> Derringer - Gaster Sans  
> Colt - Gaster Papyrus  
> Opal and Pearl (to be introduced later) - Tale-type Alphys


	3. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don Gaster has a little chat with his sons while Remington shows Vera around the house. We get to meet most of the cast of characters, barring a few stragglers to show up in chapter five.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it was around this chapter I started fixing the outline. Certain plot points were changed, but I kept the hints in as most of them (changed or not) will twist and tangle with each other. I also realized I wasn't putting in any 1920's or 1930's slang, so I'll have to do that when I go back to edit more.
> 
> I am also trying to balance Don Gaster's character with Vera. They have a complicated relationship where everyone (including himself and Vera) expects it to go one way and in reality, it's going to go in another direction. So, you'll see him going from a kind host to a somewhat lech and threatening figure, and bounce back again as everything gets figured out. He's not safe to be around, and even his kids fear his temper, so I didn't want to present him as this morally right person. None of the Gaster family is actually a pure white hat character. Don Gaster, as well as his sons, will do some things in this fic that I personally don't agree with, but it fits the character and the world. After this chapter, I will do my best to put up warnings (for after this chapter I think we start to get into some of the more darker themes).

Chapter Two  
Don Gaster waited for a bit after Remington left with Vera and the kids. He casually got himself another cigarette, keeping his eye lights on his remaining children. It was clear that he still had something to discuss with them. Winchester and Beretta took the seats in front of the desk. Winchester looked comfortable while Beretta crossed his long legs and glared.

“Look, pops, if you just wanted to introduce us to your new squeeze,” Winchester started, but Gaster held up a hand to stop him. Already, he could hear his last two kids entering the house and he didn’t want to repeat himself more often than necessary. He’d tell this to Remington in private. Maybe. Remington and Colt were his most soft-hearted kids, and now that title was Remington’s alone. Sweet boy, but he’d probably mess up Gaster’s plans by trying to do the right thing.

After a few minutes, the study door opened and Browning and Derringer walked in. Both were laughing so hard they had to hold on to each other to not fall over. It warmed Gaster’s heart to see his children so happy.

“Oh, man, pops, you should see this,” Browning said, his deep voice rumbling like thunder. “Ruby must have bought out a whole store! I wear, a hundred boxes of clothes just arrived. I mean, the stuff from The Lion’s Den don’t seem like her thing, but there was some stuff from Mettaton’s Emporium. Like, a whole new wardrobe!”

“She’s certainly blowing through her inheritance,” commented Derringer. Normally, seeing his sister-in-law spend his brother’s hard-earned money would have angered him, but this was just too much. It went right around being insulting to being humorous. “I can’t wait to see the look on that cheap harlot’s face when she finds out she’s not getting another penny.”

Gaster motioned for his sons to come closer. Once they were settled as well, both smoking along with Gaster, he said, “Those clothes were not for Ruby. They’re for my guest, Ms. Vera Font.”

That wiped the grins off their faces. “Dad, you’ve only ever bought a single dress or a bit of jewelry for any woman that caught your eye,” Derringer said slowly.

“When you see her, you’ll understand,” Gaster said. He wondered which of the dresses she’ll pick out to wear to dinner. Would she pick the plainest dress in the bunch, which would be world’s fancier than anything she owned but too casual for dinner? Or would she overcompensate and pick out the fanciest dress and be truly inappropriate? Maybe, he’d have to show her the right way to wear such fashion after dinner. Who knew if a woman like Vera Font knew how to wear things like garters and silk stockings?

“She’s a mousy little thing,” Beretta said. “Father probably wanted to make sure she had decent clothing to wear beyond her rags.”

“You probably saw her if you passed Remington out there,” said Winchester.

“Ms. Vera Font is a guest in this house,” said Gaster. “You will all treat her with more respect than you’ve shown some of my other guests. She’s off-limits to all of you unless I say otherwise.” He puffed on his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his head. “Browning, Derringer, tomorrow you’re driving down to a small mining town called Trebuchet Gulch to collect their first month’s protection fees. Your contact is a man named Montserrat Font.”

Browning burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s rich pops! You want us to meet with the husband of the woman you’re seducing?”

“Montserrat is her brother-in-law and the owner of the Font Brothers Tavern. I suggest, while you’re in town, you stop by for some hibiscus beer. It’s quite good.” Gaster smiled. “I want you to do what you do best and schmooze him. Get as much information as you can about Ms. Vera Font and her dearly departed husband, Garamond. I want to know everything there is: who their families are, hopes and dreams, and any police reports. You might not find a lot about Garamond. He died in a cave-in seven years ago.” He snubbed out his cigarette and stood, walking over to the settee to pour himself a drink. “Montserrat impressed me when I was there. He had the same self-righteous attitude as Colt and didn’t back down from me. I like him. I would be very upset if I found out you hurt him.”

“So, we’re playing very nice with him,” asked Derringer. “No roughing him up if he won’t give us what we want?”

Gaster took a sip of his whiskey. “If you must rough him up, only a little. Let him still walk and use all his limbs. A better threat would be to remind him that his dear Ms. Vera Font is a guest in my house. It would be a real shame if she were to return home more scarred than she currently is. That is your real coin while you are there, boys. Those pathetic townies adore her, she’s their pet Human. We have her and we hold all the power.”

Beretta uncrossed and recrossed his arms. “She is sounding less like your new bed toy and more like a hostage, Father.”

Gaster took another sip, letting the strong liquid burn all the way down. “What I say will never leave this room, boys. You won’t even talk about it to Remington unless in here, in my presence.” He looked into the amber depths of the whiskey. “Whether my dear Vera knows it or not, she is connected to Colt’s death. The Humans have an interesting theory that everything is connected. You sneeze in California and China has a tsunami or some shit like that. I firmly believe that the person who killed Colt crossed paths with Ms. Vera Font in the past and that caused the chain reaction that led to my son’s unfortunate passing.”

“Dad,” said Winchester, “Colt got sick in the jungle and died from that. It wasn’t murder.”

“It was murder. Before he died, Colt sent me a letter stating he had reason to believe his life was in danger. Among other details in that letter. I found it very suspicious that he’d say that, and a month later he’s dead. Someone on that charity mission had a reason to kill him, and I know it’s tied to Vera Font.”

“You want us to find some mystery person in Ms. Font’s past who might also cross paths with Colt,” asked Derringer incredulously. “That can be literally hundreds of people!”

“Colt and Vera never met,” said Gaster quietly. “In fact, if Colt tripped over our Ms. Font in the street, he’d have no idea who she was. But, there is a connection. I felt it the moment I saw her. I think I know the answer, but I need more information to be sure. That is why I need you two to find out all you can about Vera Font of Trebuchet Gulch.”

“What makes that mousy little nobody so special,” sneered Winchester. “If she’s connected to Colt’s death, just kill her.”

“Connected, but not responsible. No one killed on her behalf. I know that much.” He made his way back to his desk. “She stood out in that dirty little town. The only Human around. They protected her. It was…cute. I have lured her here under a slightly false reasoning. She’s a medium, and she believes she’s here to do a reading.”

Immediately, all his kids groaned. Browning slapped his huge hands on the desk. “What the fuck? You don’t even believe in mediums and all that psychic shit! Didn’t all those fakes who came looking for your gold teach you anything?”

“She’s different. She didn’t seek me out when I was there. In fact, I’m under the impression she never wanted to see me at all. If I hadn’t demanded she stop by my room, she would have been happy hiding away.”

“That proves nothing,” said Beretta. “She probably knows what you did to all those other fakes.”

Gaster shook his head. “Bear with me on this. I was surprised to find out she was a medium. She did a reading for me at the hotel.” He smiled again, and it sent shivers of dread down the spines of his children. “She’s the real deal.”

****

Remington showed Vera around the downstairs. He seemed to be most excited to show her the kitchen and talk about the meals he’s cooked for his family. He took her back through the gallery to the foyer so they could use the main stairs to head up to the rooms. “There are other stairs,” Remington said. “The ones by the kitchen go up next to my bedroom. It made it easier to sneak down to practice cooking. There also used to be stairs from the garage to Derringer’s and Colt’s room, but Father had those sealed off when Derringer used them to sneak out one time too many.”

In the foyer, Vera stops them. She turns to Chara and holds out her hand. “The frog, if you please.”

Trying to look innocent and hiding the frog behind his back, Chara said, “What frog?”

“The one in your hand. He’ll be much happier outside.”

Chara looked up at his uncle, who motioned for him to give the frog to Vera. With a sigh, he handed the frog over. Vera took it outside and set it free. With that done, they went upstairs. At the top landing, they came upon a strange scene. Remington sighed, seeing his sister-in-law glaring at Alke and Neiro, both of whom had their spears at her throat, while two men brought boxes into the Green Room. The boxes clearly held clothing and were from The Lion’s Den and Mettaton’s Emporium, two Monster clothing stores that catered to the wealthy.

“Clearly those are for me,” Ruby snapped in that thin, reedy voice of hers. “Who else in this house would be receiving clothes from Mettaton’s Emporium? It’s very obvious that the Don has realized that I’m the mother of his only grandchild and has decided to show me some respect! Give me those dresses!”

“They’re not yours,” said Neiro. She saw Remington and Vera, and pointed her spear in their direction. “The Don bought these for Ms. Vera Font.”

Vera took a step back in surprise as Ruby glared at her. The two women were polar opposites. Ruby Baskerville Gaster was a tall, thin woman with curly blonde hair styled fashionably. Her clothes were top of the line and she wore expensive jewelry bought with Colt’s money. Her blue eyes were lined with dark kohl to make them stand out and her lips were painted to resemble a cute little heart. Vera, on the other hand, was petite. Her thinness was less a fashionable skinny and more of a starved look. Her dark hair was choppy and uneven, her clothes faded and old-fashioned, and she wore no makeup or jewelry beyond an old steel wedding band.

Ruby sneered as she stormed over to Vera. “What is this creature? She’s not fit to work here let alone be a guest. How desperate must your father be to let this filth just waltz through the door.”

“Ruby!” Remington stepped between the two women. “Ms. Font is a guest here. Please, refrain from such vulgar words.”

The blonde blinked. “What did you say her name was again?”

“Ms. Vera Font. She’s from my father’s new mining town, Trebuchet Gulch.”

“What a perfectly common name for a perfectly common woman.”

Vera walked around Ruby as if she weren’t there and peered into the Green Room. “I…I don’t think there is any way I’ll ever be able to wear all of this,” she said softly. There was an apologetic tone to her husky voice. “There has to be at least three lifetimes worth of clothes. Mr. Remington, your father is just too generous. Perhaps…”

She didn’t get far when Neiro cut her off, spear now pointed at Vera. “Don’t! I can tell what you’re thinking, girlie, and I suggest you don’t. For one, this was bought by the Don for you. For two, Ruby is a vile snake with probably ten times this in her room. If you so much as let her touch your new clothes, the Don will see that as an insult. You don’t want to insult the Don, now do you?”

Ruby growled, “How dare _you_ insult me! Vile snake, indeed! I’m a guest here, the mother of his grandson! I deserve more respect than what any of you are showing!”

“Ruby, why don’t you rest up before dinner,” Remington suggested. “It’s been a stressful day for all of us.”

The blonde huffed and stormed back to her room. She slammed the door, causing it to echo down the hall. Chara breathed a sigh of relief and then went to his room to take a bath. Remington shook his head and set Frisk down. “I don’t know what we’ll do about her,” he muttered.

“I have a few ideas,” said Alke.

“No,” said Remington. “Just no.”

“Spoilsport.”

The two men finished with the boxes. One was a tall blue bunny Monster and the other a shorter and scruffier orange cat Monster. “Um, so, boss, we’re done,” said the blue bunny. “Is there anything else we can help with?”

“No, I believe that is all,” said Remington. He glanced at Alke and Neiro, but neither woman had any more instructions. “I suppose you can go back to your work.”

The blue bunny shrugged. “Begging your pardon, boss, but we were kinda picked off the street for this. We don’t normally do deliveries. Names Hugh and this is Bennie. We operate a taxi service in Ebbot City.” He handed out his card to everyone. “Now, I know you folks have a bunch of nice cars, but every once in a while you might want to go unnoticed or the car is in the shop or whatever. Give us a call and we’ll be happy to take you to where you need to go.”

Remington pocketed the card. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said. After the two had left, he turned to Vera, who was staring at the boxes in dismay. He placed his hands on her shoulders, leaning in close to her. 

“Why don’t you only unpack some of it? Just what you think you’ll need while you’re here. If you need more, you have it. And, I’m sure Father has hired you a lady’s maid to help you out. Ruby has one. Just someone to show you the ropes, okay.”

Alke cut in with, “Don Gaster hired Opal to help out Ms. Font. She’s arriving in an hour. Why don’t you wash up and relax? Dinner is at six.”

Vera unconsciously leaned back against Remington, sending a jolt through him. “I’ll do that,” she said softly. “Thank you for the advice, Mr. Remington.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Characters:  
> Don Wingding Gaster - Fell Gaster  
> Remington - UT Mob Papyrus  
> Winchester - UT Mob Sans  
> Baretta - UF Mob Papyrus  
> Browning - UF Mob Sans  
> Derringer - G! Sans  
> Colt - G! Papyrus  
> Alke - UT Mob Undyne  
> Neiro - UF Mob Undyne  
> Opal and Pearl - UT Mob Alphys (or just UT Alphys)  
> Hugh - Nicecream Bunny  
> Bernie - Burgerpants


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with some revelations, and then a walk with the Don.

Chapter Three

Dinner that night was more casual than normal. Vera Font was an anomaly in the house and everyone was trying to figure out her role. To Beretta and most of his brothers, she was a fake out to fleece their father from his hard-earned money. Remington, however, had a different of her and felt at war with himself. On one hand, he knew Vera was his father’s ‘guest’ and most likely new bedmate, which meant she was off-limits during this ‘honeymoon’ phase of Gaster’s seduction. When his father grew tired of her, and he did with all the Humans he pursued, Remington might be the one there to comfort her. It wouldn’t be the first time any of the sons decided to take the cast-offs for a spin before setting them free. But, he felt Vera was different. She wasn’t someone he just wanted to bed and dump. He loved hearing her talk in that low, husky voice and seeing her smile. The way her lips quirked up from the scar was just endearing. The way she was unsure of herself around the glitz and glamour of the house was different from anyone Remington had met before, and he found it refreshing.

When Vera came downstairs, she wore a simple dusty rose dress with a string of pearls around her neck. It was very understated, but she was the most gorgeous woman he ever saw. Remington, dressed in a very plain gray suit with a bright red scarf, offered her his arm to escort her to the dining room just a few feet away. At his side stood Frisk in a cute little blue dress and Chara in a suit just like Remington’s, but his scarf was green. Vera smiled and shook her head to Remington before asking Chara to escort her to dinner. Never had being rejected felt so right. Remington smiled as he watched Chara, looking so proud to be like the adults, take Vera to the dining room. He turned to Frisk and offered his daughter his arm.

The table was set like a battlefield with Don Gaster and his sons along one side, the kids and guests on the other side. Frisk surprised them all when she chose, of her own free will, to sit next to Vera with Chara on Vera’s other side. Next to Chara sat Ruby, decked out in a flashy low-cut dress and her most expensive jewelry. Derringer gritted his teeth when he saw her, his good humor at the thought of her spending the last of her inheritance and being kicked out was gone. Now he wanted to take each and every jewel off her and return her back to the little shop girl she had been before she caught Colt’s eye and wallet. The way he felt Ruby lorded her position and acted like she was untouchable put him on edge.

“A bit fancy for dinner, Rubes,” said Browning. Like Remington, the boys were all in more casual suits with colored ties. Browning’s was a deep, wine red while Beretta’s tie and suit were all black. Winchester wore a blue tie and Derringer had on a green scarf. “Didn’t you get the memo that we were casual tonight?”

“A lady must always look her best,” Ruby answered.

“Yeah, but you ain’t a lady,” Browning muttered under his breath.

The last person to join them was Ramsey, the Brilliant Mystic. He swept into the room wearing what appeared to be one of Ruby’s satin dressing room robes in red and gold and tacky fake jewelry draped over him in every fashion. He wore too many necklaces and rings, which caught the light at every angle. The bangles on his arms clinked and clanged with each movement, drawing ever more attention his way. His black, oily hair was pulled up under the massive red turban and he had greased his mustache. He wore more makeup than Ruby, a feat the Gaster boys thought impossible. His dark eyes were thickly lined with kohl and little designs, Egyptian in nature, were painted on beneath them. Browning, who was seated across from him, swore he was wearing lipstick. His long nails were painted black with gold tips. Ruby had brought him back with her from the jungles of South America, claiming that he could communicate with Colt. Naturally, Ramsey always declared that Colt wanted his widow and son (but especially his widow) to be well taken care of, and, as their personal psychic, that bit of wealth and pampering extended to him.

“You must be the new guest,” Ramsey said, his loud voice on the verge of shouting. He acted as if he were always on stage, and those in the back of the theater needed to see and hear him. He sat next to Ruby, but his attention was on Vera as he looked her over. “My, what a strange little creature you are. No, don’t tell me anything about you. Let the spirits speak through me.” He dramatically placed his fingers to his forehead as if he could hear the voices of the dead. “And speak they do! You are Vera Font, a poor woman from a poor mining town.”

Beretta scoffed. “That is no secret in this house. You could have gotten that information from just about anyone.”

“Ah, but they speak more,” Ramsey said, ignoring him. “Vera Font is a woman of many dark secrets. Though she lives in a poor mining town, she is not one of them. I see! I see! I see wealth and riches hidden in your past and a lifetime of deceit and lies!” He stood and pointed at her, declaring triumphantly, “You are here to seduce the Don and steal his money! You have a lover back in that town and you both know of the good Don’s adoration for the female Human form. You foul harlot! You temptress of the devil!”

Vera did not look impressed. She had dealt with these types of ‘psychics’ before. “You, sir, are a charlatan.”

“Do not try to deny it, you tart! The very spirits denounce you. I can see Colt, and he wishes to save his father from your foul, money-grubbing embrace. Do not be fooled, Don Gaster, by this witch’s seemingly innocent looks. She’s robbed many men with her sob stories. You should toss her out before it’s too late!”

Don Gaster chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “And you say my son is giving you this dire warning,” he asked.

“Indeed. I am your humble servant, Don Gaster. I only seek to enlighten and protect you.”

“I do not feel any spirits in this room,” the Don said. “What about you, Remington?” He turned to his son and was surprised by the look of anger Remington directed to Ramsey. His skull, from zygomatic bones over the nasal crest and zygomatic process, was glowing with his orange magic and his hands were clenched. While the other boys were amused or annoyed by Ramsey, Remington looked murderous. It was so strange to see such a face on his sweet second eldest son.

“No,” Remington said curtly. “I feel no spirits like that here.”

“Me either,” chimed in Chara. “Father isn’t here right now.” Frisk made a motion with her hands. “Frisk says she sees no spirits either,” Chara translated.

“Of course you children don’t sense anything,” Ramsey scoffed. “You have the psychic abilities of a rock. Leave this matter to your betters.”

“Then, let’s ask their betters,” said the Don. He would ignore that Ramsey’s little jab included Remington, for now. “Browning, what spirits do you feel?”

“None, but I want to feel some whiskey,” he said.

“Here, here,” added Derringer. “That’s my kind of spirit.”

Don Gaster smiled. “And you, Ms. Font? What spirits do you sense in this room?”

Vera took a deep breath. She held it in for a second before saying, “I sense no spirits here.”

Ramsey snarled. “None of you have any talent! Why must you abuse me so?”

“It’s too easy,” said Beretta. He locked eyes with Vera. “When you’re a fake, you deserve all the abuse you get.”

“Exactly,” said the Don. “We all know what happens to those who try to deceive me.” The threat was loud and clear, and Vera kept her eyes on her plate. Chara reached over and patted her hand, giving her a big grin of support.

The conversation paused while the food was served. Ruby did comment that the spread wasn’t as rich as normal, and the Don told her they were going really casual tonight. Platters of bourbon-glazed ham, buttered rolls, and crisp apple Waldorf salad made it to the plates. Vera allowed herself one glass of wine, though she missed the hibiscus beer Montserrat made. Ruby, after downing four glasses of the expensive wine in quick succession, glared at Vera over Chara’s head.

“So, Ms. Font, why don’t you tell us how you got that scar on your cheek? I’m sure it’s an interesting story,” Ruby said, holding her glass out for another refill.

The quiet conversation around the table abruptly stopped. The Don felt a swell of anger at the question, though he was curious himself. Next to him, Remington growled low.

“It’s not a topic for the table,” said Vera softly.

“Has your voice always sounded like a strangled cat’s?” asked Ruby.

“Again, not a topic for the table, Ms. Ruby.”

“That’s Mrs. Gaster to you, you little upstart. And I know we’re all dying to learn more about you. Surely the Don brought you here for more reasons than to just be a floozy, or do you have something to hide?”

“That is enough!” Remington’s voice came out sharp, surprising his brothers. “Ruby, you are being very rude to our guest. I suggest you stop at once!”

Ruby shrugged. “Fine, darling. I’ll leave your little church mouse alone for now. It’s not like she has anything to hide, now does she?”

Chara glanced up at Vera, nibbling on a roll. “What does that scar mean? I remember this guy at our camp, Brother Lonnie, had one of those same scars on his hand. Father said it wasn’t nice and some bad people did that to Brother Lonnie, but no one will tell me what it means. Did bad people do that to you, Ms. Vera?”

“Chara, that is not a topic for the dinner table,” said the Don. “The matter is dropped. The next person to bring it up will be sent to their room without dessert. Understand?”

“Yes, grandpa,” said Chara. But with the way he kept looking up at Vera, the matter was not dropped in Chara’s mind. Just put on hold.

Slowly, the conversation went back to the pleasant buzz of before. Winchester spoke with Derringer and the Don about an upcoming business deal. Browning entertained Beretta a story of his collection that day and of some poor slob who dared to not pay his fees. Remington got in that conversation, chastising his brother that now the poor slob would never be able to pay, before turning his attention back to Chara and Frisk. The kids entertained Remington - and Vera - with stories of their day, making catching the frog as dramatic as possible. They didn’t just sneak up on it and pick it up, they stalked their prey the way the Jaguar Monsters of South America did and captured it in a cunning trap. Chara and Frisk were brave hunters of the ferocious man-eating frog.

When dessert, a lovely chocolate icebox cake, was served, Ruby captured the conversation. In a loud and inebriated voice, she regaled everyone with stories of her life with Colt. Except, she didn’t talk much about Colt. She talked about how hot the jungle was, how many bugs she had to fight off daily, the horrible food, the uncivilized Jaguar Monsters they were living with, and the constant inconvenience of not having everyday luxuries. She talked about how fruitless it was to send missionaries and charity operations to the jungles and various poor villages around the world, that she felt Colt was wasting his time, and how idiotic it was that he kept fiddling with his precious flowers. Beretta and Browning motioned for her to shut up while Derringer’s skull slowly turned a few shades dark blue with his anger. Next to him, Winchester’s left eye glowed dangerously and Vera could see the knives and forks start to vibrate from the magic leaking from the whole Gaster family.

The Don finally stood up, and Ruby’s mouth snapped shut. “Well, that is all for tonight,” said the Don. “Ruby, thank you so much for that insight into your perils with my son.”

“Come, my dear,” said Ramsey, his wary eyes on the Don as he helped Ruby up. “I think you need to lie down. It’s been a very eventful day.”

“That sounds wonderful,” said the Don. “Derringer, why don’t you help your sister-in-law upstairs?”

“With pleasure, Father,” said Derringer. He stood and followed Ramsey and Ruby upstairs.

“I have a wonderful idea,” said Remington. “Why don’t the two of you get ready for bed, and I’ll tell you some bedtime stories in the library? It’ll be like a little camp out inside.”

Chara took one look where his mother had vanished and nodded. “Yeah, that sounds like a good idea, Uncle Remington. Come on, Frisk. I think it’s better if we get our jammies from Uncle Remington’s room this time.” He took her hand and the two kids ran off.

“Seeing as we are splitting up for the evening,” said the Don, “I would like to show you my gardens, Ms. Font.” He did not miss the look on Remington’s face. Perhaps his son had hoped to spend time the young lady? Was it his imagination, or did Vera glance at Remington as well? Interesting.

“I’d be honored to see your gardens,” said Vera.

Remington stood and excused himself to the library. Winchester offered to talk to Beretta and Browning over some smokes and drinks, and the three of them left the table.

Don Gaster brought Vera out to the gardens. All around her were beautiful arrangements of flowers and statuary, benches, and fountains. He told her the names of a few of his most prized flowers before bringing her to a small greenhouse near the pond. 

“This is where I keep my most treasured flowers,” he said. “All of these were grown from seeds sent to me by Colt. Are you familiar with Echo flowers, Ms. Font?”

“No. I’m afraid my only gardening experience is from my pitiful vegetable garden back home. I’ve never seen anything as beautiful as the flowers you’ve shown me.”

Don Gaster took her into the greenhouse. Inside were more of the flowers she saw in his office. Large, thick stalks with hearty flowers the size of her head in an arrangement of cyan blue, mint green, and bright pink. The flowers fairly glowed in the moonlight.

“The Echo Flower is something very special and one of its kind. It gets its name by the fact it will echo back the last thing said around it. Well, the traditional Echo Flowers did. I kept a few here and they always fascinated Colt. I’d go to my office and he’d leave me little notes in all the flowers. While I worked, I’d have his voice pipe up with ‘good luck daddy’ and ‘I love you’. When he started his charity mission, it was only supposed to be for one year, but then he stumbled across a new breed of Echo Flowers. Botany was just a small hobby of his. He would send me seeds and cuttings of his more successful experiments.” Don Gaster showed her a cyan-blue flower. “This is one of the more traditional ones. Here, watch this.” He leaned in closer. “My name is Don Wingding Gaster.” He straightened up and touched the petals.

**My name is Don Wingding Gaster.**

“That is amazing,” said Vera. She had never known such a thing existed.

He nodded. “Colt wanted to create one that would keep a message, no matter how often one talked around it. He thought it would be nice for loved ones to hear their dearly departed or for those parted by work or war to hear their families. He had some minute successes. Most of the messages lasted a few days before the flower reset. He was positive he found the right combination. He mentioned the color had something to do with longevity and had found some rare species deep in the jungle. He passed away before he could complete it.”

“Your son sounds amazing,” Vera said. “I am very sorry I never got to meet him.”

“Yes, well, you have met the rest of my family.” He picked a weed out of one flower pot. “What do you think of my sons?”

“I barely met them and have only really talked to Mr. Remington. I think he’s rather nice, a good father, and a good influence. Chara, from what I’ve seen, really respects him. All it takes is a look or a word to bring Chara back in line. Though, I imagine that boy will give his teachers a fair run. He’s rambunctious but no more than any other boy his age. And I can see Frisk looks up to her father. As for your other sons, Don Gaster, from what little I’ve seen, I’d say they are fearsome.”

He laughed. “Fearsome? I think I like that description.” He touched a green Echo Flower, his long fingers moving in a pattern along the petals.

**Love you, dad! Love you, grandpa!** Two voices rose from the flower, the second one being Chara. Vera felt a chill go up her spine as she realized the first voice was Colt’s, calling out to his father through time. Though she’s heard spirits before, this was creepy. Colt sounded so…alive.

“It’s fading,” he said. “Their voices used to be much clearer. This one lasted the longest so far, three months. It was the last flower he sent before his death. Do you understand how important this is to me, Ms. Font?”

“Yes. If I had something that let me hear Garamond’s voice once more, I don’t think I’d have fared as well as you,” she said. When he turned to look at her, she continued, “I’d never have the strength to leave it, listening to him over and over again until I withered away. You’re stronger than I am, Don Gaster.”

“I can’t tell if you’re flattering me because you think that’s what I want to hear, or because you believe your words.” He wasn’t sure which answer he preferred. To take his mind off that, he said, “How did you get that scar?”

Vera touched the M on her left cheek. “The same way most get these scars; I had a run-in with some anti-Monster bigots who felt they needed to re-educate me on my place in the world and mark me for all to know that I was traitor to my own kind.”

Don Gaster remembered what that disgusting crow had said about Vera crawling back to Trebuchet Gulch with the mark carved into her. “How did you run into such people in Trebuchet Gulch?”

“It wasn’t in Trebuchet Gulch, sir. After Garamond died, it was decided… _I_ decided that I might heal better with Human doctors. I put myself in the mercy of people I thought I’d be safe with, but I was wrong. I left them after three months with this souvenir.”

“The whole story, Ms. Font, if you will,” said the Don.

Vera hung her head, not sure why she had expected him to just take the digest version of events. She turned her attention to a beautiful blue and green swirled Echo Flower. “My parents were circus folk, but my mother’s family were well-to-do Humans. I had known for a long time that my grandparents had a country home outside Waterfall City. I was taken there. The journey was almost two days with the old car we owned.”

“The same car…” Don Gaster started, but stopped himself.

“Yes. That same car. We only had one car for the whole town, and Huckle loved that thing. It was an unspoken rule that he was the official driver. After his death, Montserrat and a few others learned to drive. I don’t remember who was the driver that day. We stayed overnight in Waterfall City and the next day, they left me on the front porch.”

“My grandparents are members of the Magus Union and believe in the whole Human species is on top thing and were not happy to know that I had married a Monster or had a child. Even though I was at their mercy, a widow and my son kidnapped, my past sins had to be _absolved_. For three months, I was tied up with a tight collar around my neck in their basement. They carved and carved and carved again the M into my cheek, never giving it a chance to heal. It started off shallow, but as they kept opening the wound, it got deeper until they cut all the way through my cheek. I had to get out of there, Don Gaster. I did what I needed to. I’m not ashamed of it, but I do not like the depths I had to sink.”

“How did you escape?”

“I first made friends with the staff member they sent down to feed me. He was just as oily as them and felt that I would benefit from a ‘real man’.” She took a deep breath. “I sold myself, Don Gaster. I convinced him to set me free if I let him do what he wanted to me. I tricked him into driving me close to Trebuchet Gulch, promising him I’d never talk to another Monster, that I was reformed. He bought it, either because he believed he had truly reformed me or he just wanted his fun and I was now damaged goods, I don’t care. I started my walk back to Trebuchet Gulch before my legs gave out and I crawled the rest of the way.”

She turned to look at him. “When Garamond and I were engaged, he showed a little bit of soul magic. Not much, but enough for him to tell me that I was the Soul of Perseverance. And Persevere I did. When I lost our son, I lost the ability to walk. I had to teach myself while stuck in that filthy basement. It was the only thing I could do, Don Gaster. As you can see, I healed up. I stole a few items from my grandparents, nothing they’d miss, and we sold them after I returned home for some cheap monster candy.”

“What did you take?”

“Some silk flowers from a vase by the door, a handkerchief that was just laying around, a single tea plate, and a half-used spool of thread. I assure you, Don Gaster, I didn’t touch their jewelry or fancy trappings laying about. I may have stolen, but I’m not a common thief.”

“Which does beg the question: will you steal from me?”

“No. What I did, I did out of desperation. I’m not going to have to make a desperate escape from your home, am I?”

Don Gaster lit a cigarette and turned to leave. He didn’t bother asking her who her family was. He knew he’d have that answer soon enough. Maybe he’d surprise her with their heads on a platter?

“Don Gaster?” He turned back. She looked so small and uncertain of herself among the large Echo Flowers. Had her confession to him drained her of all that fire? He hoped not. 

“Thank you for the clothes. They’re beautiful,” she said.

He smiled. “Any time, Ms. Font.”


	5. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vera is spending her first night in the house of Don Gaster, and starting to realize how over her head she is. After helping Chara with a nightmare, Vera and the Don have a talk about her place in his household.

Chapter Four  
That night, Vera found it hard to sleep. The bed was too soft and it felt like it would swallow her whole. Everything that happened made her feel like this was all a mistake. She had foolishly put her life in Don Gaster’s hands. Vera mistakenly took the Don’s word that this was just a reading. She knew better. Maybe she was ‘spoiled’ by the people in Trebuchet Gulch, but none of them ever bought her new clothing or demanded to know about her past. It made her uncomfortable. What if the Don wasn’t really interested in her doing a reading, but had more salacious ideas?

Sometime in the middle of the night, she became aware of quiet sobbing from the room next to hers. She got up, finding the robe Opal left out for her. That was nice, she thought. The small Tale dinosaur Monster seemed really helpful. She and her twin sister, Pearl, worked as proper lady’s maids and companions. Pearl was assigned to Ruby when she moved into the house, and Opal had helped out. Now, Vera was her responsibility and she made sure Vera’s clothes were all put away and sorted, along with all the accessories and extras the Don graciously provided. The two Monsters had once worked for Donna Muffet’s grandniece, or so they said.

Vera wrapped the robe around her and ventured out. There was a room across from hers (Ruby’s) and one down the hall (Ramsey’s). Just past the rooms was an open area that serviced as a playroom for the kids. She went to the room next to hers, the kids’ room, and tapped on the door as she opened it. The room was rather small but that was fine. One bed on the far wall was empty and the bed closest to the door had a huddled figure. The air in the room felt thick and Vera, on instinct, took a breath. She was hesitant as the scent of deep earth and flowers filled her senses. Pushing that back, she walked in further.

“Hello? Are you okay?” She moved over to the bed and saw it was Chara. The boy curled up around his pillow and turned away from her. She sat on the bed anyway.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

He nodded.

“Would you like to tell me about it? When you tell someone your nightmare, you take away its power and it goes away.”

Chara sat up. Before he could talk, the bedroom door opened and Vera saw Remington standing there, a lovely red robe over his nightshirt, and holding Frisk. As before, Vera could see that the two kids what appeared to be little replicas of Remington’s outfit.

“Did Chara have another nightmare,” asked Remington.

“Yes,” said Vera. Chara buried himself against her side. “He was about to tell me so we could vanquish it.”

“He’s been having a lot of nightmares since my brother’s death.” Remington came into the room and sat on the other side of Chara’s bed. “Sorry, buddy. I wish I could fix this for you.”

Chara curled up against Vera’s side. “It was about Father,” he said and sniffled. “He was lost in a huge field of Echo Flowers. They were all sorts of colors and taller than even Uncle Beretta. I kept calling for him, but I couldn’t find him. And the flowers were whispering all around me. Eventually, I found him, and he was crying. He held a yellow Echo Flower to his chest.”

Remington stirred. “There are no yellow Echo Flowers.”

“Yes, there are! Father created them and they were his secret project! He only showed them to me!”

Vera rubbed his back. “It’s okay, Chara. What happened next?”

“He kept saying that he didn’t mean to hurt anyone, that he caused so much pain. I tried to get him to stop crying, but he wouldn’t. And then he… he…” Chara started to sob again.

Remington patted his nephew on the head. “It’s okay. You’re awake now. Your nightmare can’t hurt you.”

“He tore off my skin so I was just a skeleton. Then he said I wasn’t his child!” Chara buried his face into Vera’s side once more. She hugged him, soothing him.

“That is your nightmare talking,” said Remington. “Of course you are Colt’s son. You two are so much alike!”

“I’m Human!”

“No, you’re a halfbreed. Your mother is Human, and your father is a Monster. Believe me, to those who know, you look like Colt. Even you skeletal structure is just like his. You have all his mannerisms. I mean, do you have any idea how often every Gyftmas we’d watch the two of you? Colt would click his jaw and then you’d click yours. He had this way of holding his hands when he talked, and you do the same thing. Chara, you are very much his son. You two even sounded alike.”

“Really?”

Remington nodded. “Chara, when you were born, your father sent all of us personalized letters. I still have mine and I’ll show it to you tomorrow. He was so happy to be a father. He sent a dozen pictures of him holding you. You are the most important thing in his life.” Remington smiled softly. “In his last letter home, he mentioned he was going to pack up and return. He wanted to make sure you got a good education.”

“But he didn’t finish his work on the Echo Flowers. He’d never leave those behind.”

“He would for you, Chara. Believe me, he loved you with all his soul.”

Chara started to sob again, crawling into Vera’s lap. “I miss him! I miss my daddy! I want him back! What if he died not knowing how much I loved him? I wasn’t with him when he died. What if he thought I didn’t care?”

Vera gently rocked the child. “He knew. Believe me, your father knew how much you loved him, Chara. And he loved you, too.” She helped him lay back down. “Want to try sleeping again? Now your nightmares have been vanquished, you should have a good night’s sleep.”

Chara pulled up the blankets and yawned while Frisk crawled into bed next to him. “Tell us a story,” Chara said. “Please, Firebird.”

“I don’t know many stories, but I grew up with the circus. I can tell you about that.”

The two kids nodded and nestled down in the bed. Vera, in that soft, husky voice, told them about her mother, who told fortunes, and her father, who could to a hundred back handsprings. She told them about Steven, the Strongman, who could lift a whole elephant over his head, and about Tay, who was both a man and a woman. Tay would go out to perform with half of them done up as a man in a tuxedo while the other side was a woman in an evening dress.

Remington listened for a bit before leaving the room. He didn’t go back to his bedroom, but stayed by the door, letting Vera’s stories wash over him. He knew, with the wisdom of an adult, that many of the stories had to be embellished. Yet, he also could see how they would hold the children’s attention. Vera had a way of telling stories that, at least to Remington, really captivated her audience.

He was debating on what to do next when he noticed a figure down the hall. Through the shadows he saw a bright green scarf. Derringer. He raised his hand to wave when his brother beckoned him over.

“Derringer. Didn’t know you were up. Chara just had another nightmare, but it’s under control now,” Remington said as he got closer. But Derringer didn’t answer. Instead, he motioned for Remington to follow him. Curious, he did and was led down to the kitchen.

“Brother? Where are you taking me?” Remington asked as Derringer headed to the back door. Remington hurried forward, grabbing Derringer’s arm. “What is it?”

Just then, the side door opened and a figure walked in. If Remington had skin and blood, he was sure he would have paled as the figure put out his cigarette and saw him. 

“Going for a night walk,” asked Derringer.

“No, I was just…” He turned to look at who he was holding, but no one was there.

********

The next day, after breakfast, Vera was escorted by the Don back to his study. Browning and Derringer left for Trebuchet Gulch and Remington would be heading into the city for work in another hour or so. Winchester was working on some business proposals while Beretta was left to patrol the Don’s territory. Don Gaster believed that an upkeep of the presence of his children or himself in his territory would be a subtle reminder to those around him that he was in charge. 

“Have a seat, Ms. Font. I understand you helped Chara last night.”

“Yes. I heard him crying and went to check in on him. He had a nightmare. I told him and Frisk some stories and they went back to sleep and I went back to bed.”

“I heard. Poor Chara has always been plagued with nightmares. Colt had his way of dealing with them, and I wish he could have told us what to do. Ruby ignores him. Normally, Remington is the one who has been helping Chara, so I’m very pleased to hear that you were the one to help.” He taps his fingers along his desk. “Chara can have a few nightmares a night, so it was a relief when he only had the one. Whatever you told him really worked.”

“I only talked about my childhood with the circus.”

“Ms. Font, I want you to tell me a story.”

Vera nervously rubbed her hands on her periwinkle skirt. “Not that I’m not enjoying my time, Don Gaster, but I was brought here to do a reading. When will I be of service?”

“Be of service? I like that phrase.” He walked over to her and gently traced a finger down her cheek, noting how she tried to not flinch away from his touch. Oh, sweet Ms. Font, but that charm was starting to wear thin.

“I’m a man who loves skin, Ms. Font.” He traces slowly down her face, her neck, her shoulder, and her arm. “I’ve been with women with smooth, soft skin. Women with scales, women with fur, women with feather, and women with soft, supple slime for skin. I’ve been with my own kind and felt the joys of bone on bone. You’re different from all those well-bred ladies I’ve seduced into my parlor. You’re rough around the edges, Ms. Font. You amuse me. While you’re in my home…” He reached her hand and caressed the callouses on her palm. “You will entertain me. Now, you can either do that by telling me stories when I ask, or we can find other amusements.” He kissed her hand. “Which is it?”

When she hesitated, he glanced at her face. There was fear there and he could almost see her trying to think of what to say. Clearly, she didn’t want to anger him. Yet, she wanted to remain true to herself. She was lucky he wasn’t trying to really seduce her.

“Stick to stories, Ms. Font.” He moved back to his desk, leaning back in the chair and kicking his feet up on the desktop. “Tell me about the day your son was kidnapped.”

There was a small whimper from her before she straightened up. “I wasn’t aware you knew about that, Don Gaster. It happened so long ago.”

“I know more than you realize, Ms. Font. Please, tell me what you remember from that day.”

Slowly, Vera told him what she remembered. It was mostly what he knew: Huckle, the owner of the General Store, got a call saying that a box of supplies had been found and he had to pick them up. Huckle had no idea how that happened, as the supplies were normally brought to him, but took it as an excuse to drive the car. Vera went with him to buy Garamond a new Sunday shirt. She had saved up some money just for him. 

“Garamond had been in a bad mood that day and I wanted to do something nice for him. I already had the supplies to make his favorite dessert that night, and I knew his good Sunday shirt was wearing thin. We couldn’t afford much, Don Gaster. My… My grandparents visited a few days before all of this happened, and that put him in a sour mood. They did not hide their disdain for where I was living or that I mingled with Monsters. I think Grandmother nearly fainted when she realized I married one and had a child. They gave me some money to run away, but I put it in our savings instead.”

“Did they know that?”

“I can’t remember now if I put the money away in their presence or not.” Vera rubbed her temples. “I think I may have given them the excuse that I couldn’t just walk to a new life. Any civilization outside of Trebuchet Gulch was too far. I’d have to wait for Huckle to drive me out to the highway next time he went on a supply run.” She snorted. “They never offered to take me with them. They didn’t want me either.”

Don Gaster tapped his mandible with the tip of his phalanges. “What happened when you did leave? Let’s get back to that.”

She told him about leaving in Huckle’s car and finding the car on the side of the road. Huckle stopped to help them. “It was a really fancy car, the kind you’d have,” Vera said. “Huckle loved cars and was just eager to talk to them about it. He knew nothing about fixing up fancy cars and spent a great deal of his precious free time to work on the clunker the town owned.”

“And the two people that stopped you? What do you remember about them?”

“They looked odd. I remember that. Older couple, rich, and I think they were going to a costume party.”

“What do you mean?”

“The woman was dressed like some Hollywood fortune teller. My mother used to dress like that; the long, flowing skirts and blouses with several scarves tied everywhere, bangles up her arms, a headdress, and thick makeup around the eyes. I think she was wearing a wig because I swear she had some silver strands sticking out around the ears and forehead. The man had on a suit, but he also wore an eye patch, fake beard, bandanna over his head, and a hoop earring. I think it was fake, too.” Vera sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head, as if there was more but she couldn’t see it. “I know it’s just wishful thinking, but I swear they were familiar to me. I keep thinking they looked like someone I knew, but I don’t know who. Every time I think about that day, I keep trying to figure it out.”

“Anything else?” This was not what Don Gaster was expecting. In truth, he thought he knew who took baby Roman, but this threw a wrench in his theory.

For a moment, he didn’t think Vera was going to answer him. She had that far-off look of someone reliving a terror. Don Gaster had seen it so many times in the faces of his victims. 

“They were after Roman,” she said softly. “I never told anyone that. After they shot Huckle, the woman demanded I give her Roman. She even said his name. I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t give her my baby. I grabbed Roman and started to run back to Trebuchet Gulch. I don’t know why I thought I’d make it. I don’t even remember being shot. Just…just this loud noise and I was falling. My legs weren’t working. I managed to cushion the fall for Roman, but he was hurt. I remember him crying and everything starting to get cold. The woman took Roman and I heard the man ask if ‘that thing’ was okay.” She looked up at Don Gaster, but he wasn’t sure if she saw him. “Do you know what she said? ‘These beasts are stronger than that’. She kicked me and said that there was a buyer for Roman, that I was a fool for ever giving birth to such a monstrosity.” Her breathing hitched. “They were waiting for us. They knew I’d be in that car with Roman. If only I had left him with Pollyanna, he’d still be here.”

Don Gaster sat back, mulling this information over as Ms. Font pulled herself together. His gut feelings were never wrong. He’d have to look into this when Browning and Derringer came back.

He was pulled from his musings as the study door opened but slammed shut almost immediately. “I know! I remembered!” came Chara’s voice from behind the door before he knocked.

Don Gaster looked over at Vera, who was wiping the last of her tears away. “You may enter,” he called out. The door swung open and Chara and Frisk came running in. They went straight to Vera and grabbed her hands.

“Come on, Firebird! We need you for this,” exclaimed Chara.

“What? No hello,” asked Don Gaster. “And call her Ms. Font, Chara. Not by that silly nickname you’ve come up with.”

“Oh, sorry grandpa. Hello! We’re going to need Ms. Font for the day.” He paused. “And I didn’t come up with it. Dad said that’s her nickname.”

“Just what are the two of you planning?”

Chara grinned. “Since Fire…um, Ms. Font is staying for a while, Frisk wants to teach her sign language. So, that’s what we’re doing. I got out all the old cards Dad and Uncle Remington made when you taught me.” He tugged on Vera’s hand again. She glanced at Don Gaster, who motioned it was okay for her leave.

“You will have to tell me more stories, Ms. Font. I found that one very informative,” he said as she stood.

“Did she tell a sad story,” asked Chara. “She looks like she was crying? You should have told him about the circus. That was a happy story!”

“I will tell him that story next time,” Vera said. She allowed the two kids to eagerly pull her out of the room. As they leave, they pass Remington, who was on his way to talk to his father.

“Where are they dragging poor Ms. Vera,” Remington asked as he closed the door.

“Frisk and Chara are going to teach her sign language,” said Don Gaster.

Remington brightened. “That’s wonderful! Frisk hasn’t opened up to anyone outside of our family before. It’s really refreshing to see her include Ms. Vera in her activities.”

Don Gaster nodded. “Rem, I asked to speak with you for a very specific reason. A few, in fact. Pull up a chair.” When Remington sat in the chair Vera had abandoned, he continued. “I was very impressed with your predictions with Trebuchet Gulch. Your ideas and plans for every outcome amazed me, and were among the main reasons I decided to even venture out there. I think, my son, you are wasting your talent as my personal bookkeeper. I’m moving you to direct manager of my accounting firm in the City. You’ll be in charge of keeping the books and accountants in line, as well as I want you to handle certain troubles that may come up when Browning and Beretta collect the protection fees. I will have Beretta stop by your new office either later today or tomorrow to fill you in on what cases he thinks falls under your new jurisdiction. And…” He chuckled. “I seem to be piling all this work on you. I do want you to head up the Trebuchet Gulch project once Browning and Derringer come back.”

“Of course, Father.”

“Also, I need you to pick up two things for me on your way home. The first is to hire a hairdresser for our sweet Ms. Font. She is in desperate need of a trim. I don’t know what blind bat last cut her hair, but it must be rectified.”

“Anything else?”

“Yes. I need you to also pick up a gift for Ms. Font.” Don Gaster lit a cigarette, pretending to not notice the dark look that came over his son’s face. When he faced Remington, his second eldest son had once again schooled his features to his usual friendly smile. “Every woman loves perfume, and I’m sure our darling Ms. Font isn’t any different. Pick her up some, will you?”

“Shouldn’t it be a gift from you, Father?”

“I think you know exactly what kind of perfume would fit a woman like Ms. Font. In fact, Remington, when you hand it to her, you don’t even have to tell her that I’m involved in the gift.”

“Father?”

“You’d best be going, Rem. You don’t want to be late for work.”

Don Gaster watched his perplexed son leave the room and smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! I've had a lot going on in my life, including getting a new job. And, as some of you know, November is very busy for me. I will be working on a novel for publication this year (and with luck actually get it ready). I may not be able to upload a lot in November, but I'll try.


	6. Chapter Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remington learns about his new job in his father's "business". He also meets two humans with less than kind words about Vera, and a wild Mettaton appears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love this chapter! It's one that I really enjoyed writing, along with a few that follow it. And, yes, that foreboding feeling you're having, it's real.

Chapter Five

The feeling that his father was plotting something didn’t leave Remington all day. His new office was wonderful with a beautiful view of the city. Off in the distance was Mount Ebbot, a silent reminder of past family vacations and picnics. Remington mentally made a note to bring Frisk and Chara there when the weather turned nicer. Speaking of the kids, there was a spare office off to the side that he was going to have turned into a playroom for them. Just in case they had to come to work with him.

Beretta, who had a work ethic very similar to Remington’s, arrived at lunch to talk to Remington. He placed a bag filled with sandwiches, hard-boiled eggs, some fruit, and two thermoses of lemonade. Remington knew better than to ask how Beretta knew to come here with lunch. He also had a folder with the first few accounts Remington would be handling.

“I should have everything set up tomorrow,” Remington said. He took a bite of the ham sandwich. “I understand what Father wants, and I hope I can fulfill this to his expectations.”

“You will. These accounts just need your special skills,” said Beretta. “I suggested to him that you’d be the better brother to handle these delicate cases. Otherwise, Browning and I could handle them.”

“I suppose I can have my first meeting after lunch tomorrow. I am thinking of asking Ms. Font to join me at lunch.”

Beretta scoffed. “Stay away from that woman, Rem. She’s off-limits.”

“And yet, I feel like Father is nudging me towards her.” He finished the sandwich. “He asked me to pick up a gift for her.”

“That’s rich. The little mouse is asking Father for gifts?”

“No, this is Father’s idea.” Remington took out a hard-boiled egg. “I like her Beretta. When I’m around her, my soul sings. I don’t understand why Father brought her out here. I know she’s connected to Trebuchet Gulch, and I’m now in charge of that project, but her being brought here is strange. I don’t know, maybe Father had a feeling about her? I know I’m glad she’s here.”

Beretta rolled his red eye lights. “Father is just having fun stringing along some dirt poor fake psychic.”

“Fake psychic? I thought he brought her here as either his new paramour or because she’s helping with the Trebuchet Gulch project.”

“Father hasn’t talked to you yet?”

Remington shook his head.

Beretta sighed and took out the last apple from the bag. “He gave the rest of us a run down. She’s here because he told her to do a reading. He, for some reason, has the belief that she’ll succeed. I don’t know why. He’s not trying to keep her from learning anything about Colt, so who is to say she won’t use this knowledge to fake a reading? We know there is no such thing as mediums, Rem. Hell, look at that _thing_ Ruby brought home. He couldn’t be faker if he was made of plastic.”

“Vera isn’t like that. If Father thinks she can do an actual reading, I believe she can do it. Besides, Frisk likes her. She can’t be a bad person.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, seriously. Frisk hasn’t opened up to anyone outside of our family, and she’s opened up to Vera.”

Beretta took a bite of the apple. “She’s a kid, Rem. She still thinks the tooth fairy is real. Just leave Ms. Font to Father and find yourself a good woman. Someone who isn’t after our family’s gold.”

Remington snorted. “She is a good woman. But, that does remind me…Did I ever tell you that Ruby used to have her eyes on me? Before she got with Colt, she was all over me.” He leaned back. “Come to think of it, it was really strange. One day she’s all ‘Oh, Mr. Remington, you’re so strong and handsome’ and the next day she’s in Colt’s arms. The other day, though, she asked if I would take her to some tea social.”

“You told that gold digger no, right?”

“Before the whole sentence was out of her mouth.”

Beretta put the apple core in the bag. “Ugh. That harpy makes my bones crawl. Though, why you and not Derringer or Father? I would have thought she’d try them to keep her little purse full.”

“I’m not sure. Maybe she was trying to rekindle what she thought we had? It’s useless. Vera Font is the woman for me. I know it.”

“Oh, stars,” Beretta groaned. “Okay, you have it bad, Rem. Bed the wench and get her out of your system.”

Remington was sure that once would not be enough with a woman like Vera, but he wisely kept that thought to himself. After going over a few more details and why Remington’s delicate approach to such matters was key, Beretta left. Remington finished setting up his office to how he wanted it and headed out to run the Don’s errands. The perfume would take the longest so he decided to get that first. If things went as planned, he might have both errands finished in the same place.

He entered Mettaton’s Emporium to find the perfume. It was crowded with women of high regard as they studied the sample dresses and were measured for their own dresses to be made. At a cosmetic counter, women talked about what colors were in style and how Mettaton was creating daring fashion choices. There was a jewelry counter, a small section for shoes, and one wall filled with the latest styles of hats. It was a one-stop shop for all the needs of a woman and Remington couldn’t get over how much stuff there was in there. The men’s fashion shops clearly held less, even if someone put all a man needs under one roof it still wouldn’t be half as much as this.

Remington headed to the perfume display. A snobby shining star-like Monster greeted Remington and asked what he was looking for. Nothing too sharp or overpowering. Remington knew he wanted something subtle for Vera, a woman he felt didn’t wear perfume very often. Not that he felt she should. The few times he had been close to her, he felt that her natural scent was just lovely, a bit earthy. The Monster brought out a few bottles for Remington to sniff.

“Remington Gaster, is that you?” Remington turned to see an elderly Human couple walking over to him. He recognized them as Judge and Madam Withrope, some acquaintances of his father’s. Turning on the charm, he smiled and turned to them. 

“It’s been a while,” he said. “I believe the last time I saw you was at my brother’s remembrance dinner. How have you two been?”

“Oh, splendid,” said Judge Withrope. “We are selling our country home and planning on buying a new one out past your father’s place. Much more peaceful. Waterfall City has been very active recently. Not only that, but there is a stench coming from those poor mining towns just down the road.”

Remington looked surprised. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot you had a home out that way.” He put a bottle back. “Not that one. Too strong.” Turning to the couple, he added, “Father recently acquired the deeds to a small mining town out your way. Trebuchet Gulch, I believe.”

“Horrid little place,” Madam Withrope said. “We stopped there once on a whim to get lunch. Dirt all over, the people were rude, and I swear they tried to poison me! I was never so sick after that slop they called turnip stew in all my life.”

“That’s the place,” Remington said. He set a bottle aside that was milder in scent. “Father even brought back a guest while he puts a new plan into action for them. She’s quite lovely and has been a delight to have around.”

“Who?”

Before Remington could answer, the door to the shop burst open and the flamboyant owner, Mettaton, waltzed in. No matter what Mettaton did, he did it with flair. Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch him. The flashy robot Monster was dressed in a snazzy suit, a black homburg hat with a bright pink stripe, and a long, flowing black overcoat trimmed in bright pink fur. His hair was duel-colored, the top was black and respectful, but every now and again the wind or a motion would flip up the locks and the bright pink underneath could be seen. He wore the same bright pink as eyeshadow, reminding Remington that the last time he spoke to Mettaton, the designer was in a patent battle to make that exact shade of pink his trademark.

When Mettaton saw him, he breezed right over to Remington. “Darling! How are you? It’s been so long!”

“I’ve been busy,” said Remington. “New position, new duties, and all that. Have you heard anything on your patent?”

“Oh, darling, it’s just dragging out so long. They won’t give me the patent for my fabulous pink! Some nonsense about it just being a color and who patents a color? An idea, yes. A machine, yes. But a color? It’s such a tiring battle. We should get together for lunch. I have so much to tell you.” He noticed the judge and his wife. “Judge and Madam Withrope! It’s such a pleasure to have you in my shop. Is there anything I can assist with, or have one of my assistants help you with?”

“We were just talking to Mr. Remington. He was going to tell us all about the new guest in his house,” said Madam Withrope.

Remington set aside another bottle in the no category. “Hm? Right. Yes, so, Mettaton, as I was telling the delightful Madam Withrope, Father recently acquired a little mining town out near their country estate. It’s called Trebuchet Gulch, and Father invited back one of the residents as a guest. She’s an absolute treasure to have around.” 

“And does this _lady_ have a name,” asked Mettaton, his tone frosty. Remington didn’t notice as he found the perfect perfume.

“Hm? Oh, yes, Vera Font. Father hasn’t mentioned how long she’s staying, but there is just so much to do with Trebuchet Gulch that I imagine she’ll be around for a while.”

Madam Withrope gasped. “You aren’t serious, Mr. Remington. That…that person is just horrid! Your father needs to be warned!”

Remington looked up from the perfume bottles. “What do you mean?”

“I recognize that name. A few years ago, one of our neighbors, the Whistlewaits, took her in. Something about leaving her abusive husband who killed her baby or some sob story. Anyway, they tried to do the right thing by her and she was only tricking them. She stole from them when she left, taking anything she could find. Why, I think she even hit the Mayberry’s home, too.”

Remington shook his head. “No, she wouldn’t do that. She’s no thief.”

“We’d never forget that name,” said Madam Withrope.

“Madam Withrope, you are wrong. Ms. Vera is a lady. My father would never allow anyone in our house who intended to rob us.” He purchased the perfume. “Mettaton, if I may talk to you for a moment.”

“Of course, darling.” Mettaton ushers Remington away. “What can I do for you?”

“Can you stop by later tonight?”

Mettaton’s eyes light up. “Of course, darling! I’d love to.”

“Ms. Vera needs a haircut, and you are the only person I’d trust with this,” Remington said. 

Mettaton’s eyes darkened. “Oh, I see,” he said tightly. “Well, of course I’ll help out. I’d love to help your little woman.”


	7. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After receiving a special gift from Remington, Vera is faced by the jealous Mettaton. She is not alone as some spirits come to her aid. But, who are the spirits? And are they truly her allies?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this took so long. I have a new job, which started in November, and it's taking a lot out of me. I'm working over 40 hours a week, and the weekends are now stuffed with errands and chores that I cannot do during the week.

Chapter Six

“It’s perfume,” said Opal. “You put it physically on. It’s not going to jump from the bottle and put itself on you.”

Vera had been staring at the bottle of perfume Remington bought for her for the past thirty minutes, sighing every now and again with a goofy grin on her face. She never wore perfume before, never had a reason or desire before. And even if she did, she’d never be able to afford anything as fancy as the kind Remington gave her. The only perfume Vera ever smelt was this cloyingly sweet perfume preferred by high society. It clung to Ruby like some suffocating cloud, hung around her grandmother like an evil aura, and had lingered behind the witch who stole her son. Vera was very glad Remington had not gotten her that one.

She sniffed the perfume again while Opal went to dig out a dress for Vera to wear for dinner. The scent was almost non-existent. It was so subtle, like opening a window in some mountain cabin and smelling the gentle breeze rolling in off the snow and flowers in a distant meadow.

“Here,” said Opal, taking the bottle. “I’ll show you how to put it on. For one, you don’t marinate in it.”

“You don’t what?” That had to be the most ridiculous thing Vera ever heard from Opal. The first night Opal and Vera came to an agreement: as Opal knew more about high society, what she said went. If she told Vera to wear this dress or that outfit, Vera would. If she said society women put their up like this or wore makeup like that, Vera believed her. If she said it was the in-thing in social circles to belch out your name in the middle of a meal…okay, Vera wouldn’t believe that one, but she would watch what others did at mealtime to figure out what should be done. So, if Opal said one does not marinate in perfume, she wouldn’t marinate in it.

“Some women put on too much. You really shouldn’t have to smell them a mile away,” Opal said as she dabbed a little bit behind Vera’s ears. “They can go through a bottle a month. Simply wasteful if you ask me. That Mrs. Ruby has been known to also drench the front of her dresses with her perfume. It’s considered part of the style, some hold over from the more _daintier_ times, but all it does is make one’s dress see-through and smelly. I personally believe the Don is thankful for not having a nose on those nights.”

“Surely he and his sons have the ability to smell,” Vera said. “I know Garamond could. He’d come home some nights, stand in the doorway, and take a deep breath in before telling me the stew was about to burn. He was always right.” She smiled sadly. “I sometimes burn the stew on purpose, but I know I’ll never hear him say anything about it.”

Opal had a horrified look on her face. “Stars above, I hope you’re pulling my leg, Ms. Font. The last dinner party the Don hosted was a remembrance dinner for Master Colt. I think all those high society ladies came with the idea to out stench each other. There weren’t a dry eye in the whole place and it had nothing to do with Master Colt being a fine man.”

At that moment, they could hear a guest arriving at the front door. A loud and exuberant voice called out, “Hello darlings” from the foyer and there was a murmur as someone greeted them back. Opal stiffened with disgust.

“I wonder who invited him,” she sniffed. She took a pretty gold and tan dress from the wardrobe. After laying it on the bed, she went to find the right accessories. 

“Who is that,” whispered Vera. She could hear this person talking to the Don downstairs. For some reason, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Though she saw nothing, she could smell the deep musky scent of earth. _No,_ she prayed, _not now_

“Mettaton,” said Opal, absolutely unaware of the scent slowly filling the room. “He thinks he’s untouchable. When I worked for Donna Muffet, they fought all the time. She felt his work was garish and over-priced, and he had the audacity to try and pull the wool over her eyes. You don’t do that with a spider Monster. Everyone knows his tacky clothing and makeup line are just a front. He’s really smuggling diamonds. Rumor has it, the Don gets a cut and that’s the only reason why Mettaton hasn’t met his grisly end. After all, with what happened with Master Remington, diamonds are the only thing that makes sense as to why that trashcan is still walking around.” As they heard footsteps on the stairs and Mettaton’s tawdry voice drew closer, Opal added, “You heard none of that from me.”

Vera nodded. There came a knock on the door, and before either of them could get up or ask who it was, the door swung open. Vera and Opal gave a shriek of surprise. Opal grabbed a lap blanket from a nearby chair and threw it around Vera, hiding her undergarments from view.

Standing in the doorway, dominating so that his very presence even dwarfed that of the Don, was a man so outrageous and garish Vera couldn’t believe her eyes. He was not a Human, nor was he fully a Monster. His skin was a strange metallic gray and his black hair, while styled, looked stiff and unnatural. He wore a fashionable suit with a large black overcoat trimmed in bright pink fur. Pink popped through his hair and in the brazen eyeshadow painted over his eyes. In one hand he held a large black bag and the other still lingered on the door.

“So, this is your guest,” the man said, turning back to look at Don Gaster. “Oh my! I do see where I have my work cut out for me. What in the world happened to your hair, darling? You look like you lost a fight with a machete. I’m not sure what I can do to fix it. It looks worse than what my cat has coughed up on the carpet.”

Vera was too shocked to talk. She could only sit there, clutching the blanket to her chest as that person stalked across the room. While his tone implied that he was joking and friendly, there was something dark in his purple eyes. She backed up in the chair as the stench of earth flared around her and she could see the perfume bottle rattle slightly. 

“Mettaton, this is our Ms. Vera Font,” said Don Gaster. He followed in at a much more casual pace. “Ms. Font, may I present Mettaton, Fashion Diva Extraordinaire. He’s here to fix your hair.”

“Hm, yes,” Mettaton muttered, lifting locks of Vera’s hair and letting it shift and fall through his fingers. “Well, she’ll be cut very short. Possibly boyish. Though, with that figure, it wouldn’t surprise me if everyone thought she was a boy. I have more curves, darling.” He pulled out a handkerchief. “What is that smell? You might want to have her wash up, Don Gaster. She smells of dirt and poverty.”

Don Gaster was watching Vera and caught the look of annoyance she sent Mettaton’s way. The more the man talked, the darker her eyes grew. He leaned against the wall by her vanity and said, “Mettaton, will you excuse us for a moment? I want some time alone with Ms. Font.”

“Oh, of course! I think I hear dear Remington down the hall. I’ll just pop out to go say hi. Toodles!” He breezed out of the room and Don Gaster sent Opal scurrying after him. Vera felt her fear rise as she was left alone with the Don.

Don Gaster studied her for a moment, letting the dread grow. The scent of earth receded, and Vera suddenly felt very alone and vulnerable. Almost lazily, Don Gaster said, “Tell me truthfully, Ms. Font, if you feel any spirits in this house.”

“Feel, see, smell, or hear, Don Gaster?”

“Is there a difference to a medium?”

She nodded. “I have felt the presence of spirits in your house, but I have not seen nor heard them. I can’t say who the spirits are. Sometimes, the wandering dead can just be passing through. And, as I am not familiar with your son, Don Gaster, he can be standing next to me and I’d have no way to identify him without him speaking to me. That takes energy. When I have people form a circle and link hands, it’s not for show. It’s to build the energy the spirits need to manifest and communicate.”

“You mentioned smell, Ms. Font. What about that?”

“All mediums can sense spirits differently. For me, it’s always been by scent. That doesn’t seem to take any energy at all. All ghosts have a unique smell. Some smell of the condition that killed them while others smell of something near and dear to them. I once did a reading for a man who lost his young daughter. When I was able to contact her, she smelled of wet dog. It was because one of her fondest memories was of washing the family pet, and that was the scent that lingered around her spirit.”

“And you don’t know what Colt would smell like?”

“No. Back in Trebuchet Gulch, I thought I saw him, but the scent I associated with him turned out to be you, Don Gaster.”

He smiled, though it didn’t really reach his eye lights. “Now I’m intrigued. What do I smell like, Ms. Font?”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. “You smell of that expensive tobacco you use. I can tell you don’t have normal cigarettes and the ones you smoke smell sweet. It clings to you. That, and your aftershave? Or cologne? It’s supposed to smell like leather, I think, but it’s not mixed right.”

He hummed to himself and took out a cigarette. Tapping the end on his cigarette case, he said, “If I told you about another spirit that I believe is in my house, can you find him?”

“Maybe. I won’t make any promises, Don Gaster.”

“I want you to get in touch with my great-grandfather. He was a smuggler and it’s rumored he buried a treasure on the property. I’ve tried to find it while I was putting in my gardens, but no luck.”

_Liar._ Vera jumped as the voice whispered by her ear. It was amused and familiar. The strong scent of earth faded, replaced by the smell of flowers, oddly familiar but allusive all the same.

“Remington and Colt used to play pirates out back, looking for the treasure. They dug up most of my backyard, but you should have seen them, Ms. Font, dressed up and swinging little wooden swords. They used to have such grand adventures.”

_What are you playing at?_

“I mean, if you’re going to contact Colt, why not try to bring my great-grandfather down as well? I’m even willing to split the money if you’re able to find that treasure, Ms. Font.”

_Don’t be fooled. His great-grandfather was an accountant and there is no treasure buried on this land._

Vera tightened her grip on the blanket. “You’re lying, Don Gaster. There is no treasure and your great-grandfather was an accountant.”

“And has Remington told you that?” He lit the cigarette and Vera found herself watching in horrified fascination as the smoke curled out of every crack in his skull. For a moment, the smoke became dust drifting up. Her heart clenched as his skull morphed before her eyes, becoming less angler and more rounded, dust pouring from dead eyes, mixing with the dirt of the mines. The scent of earth was back and she had to close her eyes, turning away instinctively from the vision before her.

“No,” she said sharply. She took a breath and continued more calmly, “No. Mr. Remington has never mentioned your family’s past to me.”

Don Gaster reached out, turning her back to face him. He looked worried. “Are you alright, Ms. Font?”

“Yes, sorry. I just…It was just a small spell. I’m better now.”

“Ms. Font, who told you about my great-grandfather?” His fingers tightened on her chin.

_Tell him Green told you._

Vera took a deep breath, taking in the scent of his sweet cigarette smoke and that oddly familiar flower smell. “Green told me.”

He stared at her before letting her chin go. “Green?”

She nodded. He studied her a bit longer before casually going back to smoking his cigarette. He turned his attention to the perfume bottle and picked it up. “Is this the one Remington bought for you?” She nodded and he opened the bottle to smell it. “Very nice. I knew he’d pick the right one. Are you wearing it?”

“Yes. Opal put some behind my ears,” said Vera. “I…I really do like the perfume. Mr. Remington has exquisite taste.”

He suddenly leaned in close to her, his free hand wrapping in her hair and his sharp teeth right by her ear. His grip was painfully tight. “We are going to need to talk about your attitude, Ms. Font. I do feel partially to blame. You remind me so much of Colt’s and Derringer’s mother. She was quite the spitfire and I see so much of her in you. I daresay, she might have been my only true love. I have let you get away with more than I should. What did I tell you before, Ms. Font? What were you while you were here?”

“E-entertainment?”

“Exactly. And while you are here, you will show me proper respect and curb that attitude of yours. No more little glares or frowns at any gift brought your way. If I want to dress you up like a doll, that’s what you’ll be. Understand?” His grip tightened and Vera fought back the yelp of pain. It felt like he was going to pull her hair and scalp off.

“Y-yes Don Gaster.”

“And if I send you something nice, what are you going to say?”

“Thank you, Don Gaster.”

“And if I want you to tell me a story?”

“What story do you want to hear, Don Gaster?”

“And if I send that flamboyant robot in to cut your hair, how will you act?” His hand tightened again and Vera was sure he pulled some of her hairs out. “You’re going to be a good girl and let that fucking robot cut your hair. When you are in public, you will be sweet and docile to me. I don’t care how much you hate me or glower or cry in private, but if there is so much as one person who can see you, you will behave or I’ll send you back to that pathetic little town in a million bloody pieces. You’re not the only medium in the world, Ms. Font, and your novelty is starting to wear thin.”

Vera swallowed. She could feel the energy in the room rising. His anger and her fear mingled and crackled in the air. Before she could answer him, her brush flew across the room and hit the wall by the vanity. Don Gaster jumped back, staring at the brush, now on the floor. He straightened, his hand loosening its grip. He froze as he noticed something over her shoulder. Vera was too frightened to move and take her eyes off him to see what he was staring at, but the scent of earth and flowers started to grow stronger.

“Well, I believe we understand each other, Ms. Font. I look forward to seeing your new hairstyle at dinner.” He slowly moved his hand from her hair to her shoulder and down to her chest. “Put on a little more perfume before you come down to dinner. Not much, just a dab here,” he said, sliding his finger down her cleavage. He suddenly moved to the side, dodging the picture frame that came flying through the air. He laughed as it shattered against the wall. “I will remember this,” he said, pointing his cigarette to something behind Vera. “Ms. Font, if I didn’t think he’d kill me, I would kiss you.”

With that, he turned to leave. Opening the door, he revealed Remington and Mettaton standing there, confusion on their faces.

“We heard something breaking,” said Remington. “Is everything okay?” He glanced around his father to check on Vera. Seeing her holding the blanket to her chest and the frightened look on her face, he frowned.

“Everything is wonderful,” said the Don. “She’s just as feisty as usual. I’m leaving a dear treasure in your hands, Mettaton. Rem! Come, my boy, I want to hear all your thoughts on your new position!” He flung his arm around Remington’s shoulders and led him away. Vera watched them leave as Mettaton entered the room. The click of the door closing sounded like a casket slamming shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, loved this chapter. It's the hinge point where Vera's place in the house is now set. Basically, the Don may threaten to kill her, and he might do so himself, but woe to anyone who dares lay a finger on her. She's still his guest/captive.

**Author's Note:**

> From the Desk of the Duchess
> 
> Hello, my darlings! Welcome back to another story. This is going to be different from the previous _Mouse Among the Skeletons_. This story, _Vera_ , is my attempt at a murder mystery. Like _Mouse_ , the very start storyline came from a novel I read several years ago. That novel was a product of its time, and should it be rewritten, it would be vastly different. It was about a mother being contacted by a rich widow, stating that the little girl in her house, her great-granddaughter, might be the mother's kidnapped child. And that is part of the start of this story. 
> 
> Vera is a poor woman, living in Trebuchet Gulch, a mining town on its last legs. When it's "won" by Don Gaster, their paths finally cross. Don Gaster already feels a connection with Vera and, as the events on a desolate road seven years ago started the chain that led to Colt's death, Don Gaster's attention will start a new chain that will end in bloodshed. Vera finds herself in a strange world of glitz and glamour surrounded by people who are not as they seem. Everyone has secrets they don't want to be exposed, and are willing to do anything to keep those secrets safe.
> 
> The shadowy world of the mafia Don, the secrets held by Humans and Monsters alike, the blood that drips from soft hands, ghosts in torment and demanding peace: all of this awaits you in this exciting story. I hope you enjoy reading _Vera_ as much as I enjoy writing it.
> 
> Characters (to be updated as characters are introduced):  
> Don Wingding Gaster - Generic Undertale/Mafiatale Gaster  
> Alke - Undertale Undyne  
> Neiro - Underfell Undyne


End file.
